THE  RISING 
OF  THE  TIDE 

IDA  M.  TARBELL 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NKW  YORK  •   BOSTON  •   CHICAGO  •   DALLAS 
ATLANTA  •   SAN  FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITS* 

LONDON  •   BOMBAY  •   CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


THE 
RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

THE  STORY  OF  SABINSPORT 


BY 

IDA  M.  TARBELL 


gotfe 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
1919 

A.U  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1919 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published,  March,  1919 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

HOW  THE  WAR  CAME  TO  SABINSPORT 

CHAPTER  I 

;<  r  |  iHE  town  is  going  to  the  Devil,  and  the  worst 
of  it  is  nobody  will  admit  it.  You  won't. 
-*•  You  sit  there  and  smile  at  me,  as  if  you  didn't 
mind  having  Jake  Mulligan  and  Reub  Cowder  pry 
open  ballot  boxes.  You  know  those  two  birds  are 
robbing  this  village  every  hour  of  the  day.  Nobody 
.  with  pep  enough  to  sit  up  and  fight  'em.  Rotten  self 
ishness,  that's  what  ails  this  town.  People  getting  rich 
here  and  spending  their  money  in  the  city.  Women 
won't  even  buy  their  hats  here  —  starving  the  stores. 
Can't  support  a  decent  theater  —  don't  bring  a  good 
singer  once  a  year.  Everybody  goes  to  the  city,  and 
we  have  to  feed  on  movies. 

'  Try  to  raise  an  issue,  and  you  get  laughed  at. 
Treated  like  a  kid.  Tell  me  to  l  cut  it  out,'  not  disturb 
things.  Nice  place  for  a  man  who'd  like  to  help  a 
community!  I'm  going  to  get  out.  Can't  stand  it. 
Honest,  Dick,  I'm  losing  my  self-respect." 

'  Wrong,  Ralph.  You're  spoiling  for  a  fresh  turn 
with  the  muck  rake.  You  can't  make  a  garden  with 
one  tool.  You  must  have  several.  I'm  serious. 
You're  like  the  men  in  the  mines  that  will  tackle  but 
one  job,  always  swing  a  pick.  The  muck  rake  did 
its  job  in  Sabinsport  for  some  time.  You've  got  to 
pass  on  to  the  next  tool." 

"  I  don't  get  you.  You're  like  all  the  rest.  You're 
lying  down.  I'm  ashamed  of  you,  Parson.  Get  out 
of  here.  You'll  end  in  corrupting  me." 


2  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

"  No,  only  persuading  you  that  taking  a  city  calls 
for  more  weapons  than  one." 

Silence  fell  for  a  moment.  Ralph  Gardner  was 
tired.  Getting  out  the  daily  issue  of  the  Sabinsport 
Argus  was,  as  he  often  said,  "  Some  job."  To  be  your 
own  editor-in-chief,  leader  writer,  advertising  agent 
and  circulation  manager  for  the  only  daily  in  a  town 
of  15,000  or  more  means  hard  work  and  a  lot  of  it. 
Ralph  loved  it,  "  ate  it  up,"  they  said  in  the  shop.  It 
was  only  when  calm  settled  over  Sabinsport  and  he 
felt  no  violent  reaction  from  his  spirited  attacks  on 
town  iniquities  that  he  was  depressed.  This  was  one 
of  these  periods.  The  year  before  he  had  fought 
and  won  for  the  Progressive  Party  of  the  District  a 
smashing  victory.  He  was  eager  to  follow  it  up  with 
attacks  on  the  special  grafts  of  the  two  men  who  for 
years  had  run  the  town  and  vicinity.  He  had  ousted 
their  candidates  from  the  County  and  State  tickets. 
He  meant  to  wrest  the  town  from  them,  but  he  couldn't 
get  the  support  he  needed.  The  town  had  lain  down 
on  him.  He  didn't  understand  it  and  it  fretted 
him. 

Now  here  was  his  best  and  wisest  friend,  advising 
waiting.  He  hung  his  handsome  head  in  sulky  silence. 

"What  a  boy!"  thought  the  Reverend  Richard 
Ingraham.  They  were  the  best  of  friends,  this  eager, 
active,  confident  young  editor  and  this  cool,  humorous- 
eyed,  thoughtful  young  parson.  Wide  apart  in  birth, 
in  type  of  education,  in  their  contacts  with  the  world, 
they  were  close  in  a  love  of  decency  and  justice,  in 
contempt  for  selfishness  and  vulgarity.  Both  were 
accidents  in  Sabinsport,  and  so  looked  at  the  town  in 
a  more  or  less  detached  way.  This  fact,  their  in 
stinctive  trust  and  liking  for  each  other,  and  the  clinch 
ing  force  of  the  great  tragedy  in  which  they  had  first 
met  had  made  them  friends. 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  3 

Ralph  Gardner  was  only  28.  He  had  graduated 
six  years  before  at  a  Western  university  where  for  the 
moment  the  sins  of  contemporary  business  and  politics 
absorbed  the  interest  of  the  greater  part  of  faculty  and 
students.  There  was  a  fine  contempt  for  all  existing 
expressions  of  life,  a  fine  confidence  in  their  power  to 
create  social  institutions  as  well  as  forms  of  art  which 
would  sweep  the  world  of  what  they  called  the  "  worn 
out."  Whatever  their  professions,  they  went  forth  to 
lay  bare  the  futility  and  selfishness  and  greed  of  the 
present  world.  They  had  no  perspective,  no  charity, 
no  experience,  but  they  had  zeal,  courage,  and  the 
supporting  vision  of  a  world  where  no  man  knew  want, 
no  woman  dragged  a  weary  life  through  factory  or 
mill,  no  child  was  not  busy  and  happy. 

Never  has  there  poured  into  the  country  a  group 
more  convinced  of  its  own  righteousness  and  the  essen 
tial  selfishness  of  all  who  did  not  see  with  their  eyes 
or  share  their  confidence  in  the  possibility  of  regenera 
tion  through  system.  Like  revolutionists  in  all  ages 
they  felt  in  themselves  the  power  to  make  over  the 
world  and  like  them  they  carried  their  plans  carefully 
diagramed  in  their  pockets. 

Gardner  was  one  of  the  first  of  the  crop  of  St. 
Georges  in  his  university.  He  had  chosen  journalism 
for  his  profession.  He  began  at  the  bottom  on  an 
important  Progressive  journal  of  a  big  Western  city. 
He  worked  up  from  cub  reporter  to  a  desk  in  the  edi 
tor's  room.  But  he  chafed  at  the  variety  of  things 
which  occupied  the  editorial  attention,  at  the  tendency 
to  confine  reform  to  an  inside  page  or  even  drop  it  alto 
gether.  There  were  moments  when  he  suspected  his 
crusading  spirit  was  regarded  as  a  nuisance.  And 
finally  in  a  fit  of  disgust  and  zeal  he  put  his  entire  in 
heritance  into  the  Sabinsport  Argus. 

Ralph  had  a  real  reason  in  buying  the  Argus.     The 


4  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

town  was  ruled  by  two  of  the  cleverest  men  in  the  State, 
giving  him  a  definite  enemy.  It  was  not  so  large  but 
what,  as  he  planned  it,  he  could  know  every  man, 
woman  and  child  in  it.  It  had  the  varied  collection 
of  problems  common  to  a  prosperous  Middle-West 
town,  settled  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and 
later  made  rich  by  coal  mines  and  iron  mills.  Ralph 
saw  in  Sabinsport  a  perfect  model  of  the  dragon  he  was 
after,  a  typical  union  of  Business  and  Politics,  a  typical 
disunion  of  labor  and  capital.  It  was  to  be  his  labora 
tory.  His  demonstration  of  how  to  make  a  perfect 
town  out  of  a  rotten  one  should  be  a  model  for  the 
world. 

In  his  ambitions  and  his  attacks  Richard  Ingraham 
had  been  his  steady  backer,  and  at  the  same  time  his 
surest  brake.  It  would  be  too  much  to  say  that  he 
had  always  kept  him  from  running  his  head  into  stone 
walls,  but  the  Parson  had  never  failed  Ralph  even 
when  he  made  a  fool  of  himself.  He  never  had  shown 
or  felt  less  interest  because  often  the  young  editor 
ignored  his  advice.  The  relation  between  the  two  had 
grown  steadily  in  confidence  and  affection.  A  regular 
feature  of  their  day  was  an  hour  together  in  Ralph's 
office  after  the  paper  was  on  the  press,  and  he  was 
getting  his  breath.  They  were  spending  this  hour 
together  now,  a  late  afternoon  hour  of  July  28,  1914. 
It  was  a  pleasant  place  to  talk  on  a  hot  afternoon. 
The  second  floor  back  of  the  three-story  building  which 
housed  the  Argus  opened  by  long  windows  on  to  a 
wide  veranda,  a  touch  of  the  Southern  influence  in 
building  which  was  still  to  be  seen  in  several  places  in 
the  town.  The  Parson  had  been  quick  to  see  that 
this  veranda  properly  latticed  would  make  a  capital 
workroom  for  Ralph  in  the  summer,  and  had  by  insist 
ence  overcome  the  young  editor's  indifference  to  his 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  5 

surroundings,  and  secured  for  him  a  cool  and  quiet 
office  and  a  delightful  summer  lounging  room.  Here 
they  were  sitting  now,  Ralph's  feet  on  the  veranda 
railing,  his  head  hanging  —  dejection  in  every  muscle. 

"  Ralph,"  said  the  Rev.  Richard,  "  it's  your  method 
of  attack  not  your  cause,  I  doubt.  I  don't  believe  you 
can  win  by  going  at  this  thing  in  your  usual  way.  You 
must  find  a  new  approach.  Mulligan  and  Cowder  are 
no  fools,  and  if  you  open  on  them  from  your  old  line, 
they'll  be  ready  for  you." 

'  There's  only  one  way  to  do  this  thing,"  Ralph 
shouted  hotly.  "  Show  'em  up.  Shame  the  town  for 
tolerating  them,  fight  them  to  a  finish.  If  I  could  get 
the  proofs  that  they  opened  those  ballot  boxes,  do 
you  suppose  I'd  be  quiet?  Not  on  your  life." 

'  You  won't  get  the  proof." 

"  You  mean  you  won't  help  me  to  get  it?  " 

"  I  do." 

The  Rev.  Richard  could  be  very  final  and  very 
disarming.  Ralph  knew  he  could  not  count  on  him  for 
help  in  tracing  the  gossip.  He  did  not  suspect  what 
was  true,  that  his  friend  knew  even  the  details  of  the 
bit  of  law-breaking  Jake  Mulligan  had  carried  out. 
It  had  come  to  him  by  the  direct  confession  of  one 
of  his  young  Irish  friends,  Micky  Flaherty.  Micky 
had  listened  at  the  Boys'  Club,  which  Ingraham  ran, 
to  a  clear  and  forceful  explanation  of  why  the  ballot 
box  must  be  sacred.  He  had  given  the  talk  at  the 
first  rumor  that  there  had  been  a  raid  on  the  ballot 
box  by  Jake,  for  the  direct  purpose  of  finding  exactly 
how  the  town  stood  towards  giving  him  and  Reuben 
Cowder  in  perpetuity  the  water,  gas  and  electric  light 
franchises,  which  they  had  secured  long  before  Sabins- 
port  dreamed  of  their  importance.  He  had  thought 
it  entirely  probable  that  the  rumor  was  founded  on 


6  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

truth,  also  quite  probable  that  one  or  more  of  the 
likely  young  politicians  in  his  club  had  been  used  as  a 
go-between. 

His  talk  did  more  than  he  had  even  dreamed.  Micky 
was  struck  with  guilt.  He  was  a  good  Catholic,  and 
confession  was  necessary  to  his  peace  of  mind.  It  was 
not  to  the  priest,  but  to  Dick,  he  went;  telling  him  in 
detail,  and  with  relish  too,  it  must  be  acknowledged, 
how  at  midnight  he  alone  had  stolen  from  the  clerk's 
office  in  the  town  hall  the  ballot  boxes,  and  how  he  had 
worked  with  Jake  and  two  or  three  faithful  followers, 
carefully  piecing  together  the  torn  ballots,  until  a  com 
plete  roster  of  the  election  was  tabulated.  When  this 
nice  piece  of  investigation  was  finished  and  thoroughly 
finished,  Micky  had  returned  the  boxes. 

Ingraham  had  never  for  a  moment  considered  a 
betrayal  of  Micky's  confession.  For  one  reason,  he 
was  keen  enough  to  know  it  would  be  useless.  Micky's 
sense  of  guilt  might  recognize  the  confessional,  but  it 
did  not,  and  would  not,  recognize  the  witness  stand. 
He  had  no  intention  of  giving  his  friend  the  slightest 
help  in  unearthing  the  scandal.  He  was  convinced, 
as  he  told  him,  that  a  new  form  of  attack  must  be  found. 
'  You're  a  queer  one,  Dick,"  fretted  Ralph.  "  You 
don't  believe  for  a  moment  that  Jake  and  Reub  are 
anything  but  a  pair  of  pirates.  You  aren't  afraid. 
What  is  it  ?" 

u  I  suppose,  Ralph,  it  is  partly  because  I  like  Jake 
and  don't  despair  of  him." 

"Like  him!  Like  him!  Do  you  know  what  he 
calls  your  mission  over  on  the  South  Side  —  sacrilegious 
rascal.  He  calls  it  the  Holy  Coal  Bin.  Nice  way  to 
talk  about  a  man  who  saved  a  neighborhood  from 
freezing  to  death  because  he's  too  blamed  obstinate 
and  narrow  to  listen  to  the  leaders  of  his  own  working- 
men.  *  Runs  his  business  to  suit  himself!  '  Think  of 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  7 

that  in  this  day !  Those  men  and  women  would  have 
died  of  cold  if  you  hadn't  turned  your  club  basement 
into  coal  bins.  And  now  he  laughs  at  you." 

"  Do  you  know  who  paid  for  that  coal;  most  of  it 
at  least?  "  asked  Ingraham. 

*  You  did,  confound  you.  Of  course  you  did. 
Everybody  knows  that." 

"  No,  three  quarters  of  it  Jake  paid  for,  on  condi 
tion  I  wouldn't  tell  the  men.  Couldn't  see  them  suf 
fer.  Jake  has  possibilities.  And  then  there  is  Jack. 
You  know  how  he  loves  that  boy.  You  know  how  fine 
and  able  Jack  is.  He  has  already  swung  the  old  man 
into  modernizing  the  *  Emma.'  If  we  will  stand  by 
him,  I  believe  in  time  he  will  have  reformed  his  father. 
Give  him  a  chance  at  least.  If  you  don't  do  that,  I 
am  certain  that  eventually  you  will  drive  Jack  himself 
away  from  you,  and  we  must  not  lose  Jack.  More 
over,  you  have  got  to  remember  that  Jake  and  Reuben 
made  this  town." 

"  Nothing  to  recommend  them  in  that,"  Ralph 
growled.  '  They  own  it  from  the  ground  to  the  elec 
tric  wires;  and  they  use  it  twenty-four  hours  out  of 
the  day  —  and  then  some." 

"  Listen,  Ralph.  It  was  Jake  Mulligan  who  opened 
the  coal  mines,  and  for  years  almost  starved  while  he 
brought  them  to  a  paying  point.  It  was  Reuben 
Cowder  that  brought  in  the  railroad  to  carry  out  the 
coal.  This  town  never  would  have  had  the  railroad  if 
it  had  not  been  for  Cowder.  You  know  perfectly 
well  how  little  help  either  man  has  had  from  the  old 
timers.  Everything  that  is  modern  here  has  come 
through  those  two  men.  Moreover,  they  love  Sabins- 
port.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  Jake's  celebration  when 
the  water  works  were  finished  in  the  'QO'S?  He  is 
never  done  talking  about  the  water  works.  His  wife 
used  to  say  he  celebrated  them  every  time  he  turned  a 


8  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

tap  —  water  for  turning  a  tap  to  a  man  who  had  car 
ried  every  gallon  in  buckets  from  a  spring  by  the  barn 
for  years  and  years !  Pure  water  to  a  man  who  had 
seen  a  town  he  loved  swept  by  typhoid!  You  ought 
to  realize  what  it  took  for  him  to  bring  that  about;  you 
who  are  trying  to  do  things  here  now.  He  could  not 
budge  the  town.  He  and  Reuben  practically  put  up  the 
money  for  the  water.  They  had  learned  by  the  epi 
demic  what  bad  water  meant.  They  argued  that  towns 
subject  to  typhoid  would  finally  be  shunned,  and  they 
put  through  the  waterworks  with  nine-tenths  of  the  re 
spectable  men  and  women  against  them.  Afraid  of 
taxes !  The  town  argued  that  it  would  not  happen 
again,  and  that  anyway  it  was  the  will  of  the  Lord! 
Of  course  they  bought  votes  to  put  it  through,  and  of 
course  they  own  the  franchise,  and  of  course  they  have 
made  money.  I  don't  defend  their  methods,  but  I 
can't  help  feeling  that  Sabinsport  owes  them  some 
thing. 

"  It  is  the  same  story  about  gas  and  electricity  and 
trolleys.  These  two  men  have  planned  and  fought  and 
bought  and  put  things  through,  while  the  respectable 
have  been  afraid  to  go  ahead,  lest  they  should  lose 
something.  Now  the  respectable  grumble.  I  must 
think  that  respectability  and  thrift  are  largely  responsi 
ble  for  Jake  and  Reuben." 

"  Confound  your  historical  sense,  Dick;  it  is  always 
slowing  you  up.  If  you  would  concentrate  on  the  pres 
ent,  you  would  be  the  greatest  asset  this  town  ever 
had." 

"  Drop  it,  Ralph.     What's  the  news?  " 

"  There  it  is  —  more  interested  in  a  pack  of  quarrel 
ing  Dagoes  5,000  miles  away  than  living  things  at 
home.  What's  the  use  when  your  best  friend's  like 
that?  What  has  it  got  to  do  with  us  in  Sabinsport  if 
Austria  has  declared  war  on  Serbia  —  what's  Serbia 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  9 

anyhow?  A  little  worn-out,  scrappy  country  without 
a  modern  notion  in  its  head." 

"  Do  you  mean,"  cried  Dick,  springing  up,  "  that 
Austria  has  declared  war?  " 

"  That's  what  this  says.  It  just  came  in," —  fling 
ing  a  yellow  sheet  across  the  table. 

"  My  God!  Man,  don't  you  know  what  that 
means?  " 

"  Well,  I  suppose  it  might  mean  a  good-sized  war, 
but  I  don't  believe  it.  They'll  pull  things  out;  always 
have  before,  ever  since  I  can  remember.  What  if  Ger 
many  gets  in,  as  you  said  it  would  be  the  other  day; 
what's  that?  They'll  clean  up  a  little  affair  like  Serbia 
quick  enough;  teach  her  to  stop  running  around  with  a 
chip  on  her  shoulder.  And  no  matter,  I  tell  you,  Par 
son;  it's  nothing  to  Sabinsport,  and  Sabinsport  is  our 
business.  If  the  world  is  to  be  made  decent,  you've  got 
to  begin  at  home.  Don't  come  bothering  me  about 
wars  in  Europe!  I've  got  war  enough  if  I  root  out 
Mulligan  and  Cowder." 

But  the  parson  wasn't  listening.  His  face  was 
whiter  than  usual,  and  its  lines  had  grown  stern. 
"  Good  night,  Ralph,"  he  said  curtly;  "  just  telephone 
me  to-night,  will  you,  if  there's  more  news.  I  think  I'll 
go  out  to  the  '  Emma  '  after  supper." 

The  Reverend  Richard  walked  down  the  street  with 
out  seeing  people  —  something  unheard  of  for  him. 

Tom  Sabins,  going  home,  said  to  his  wife,  "  The  par 
son  is  worried.  Met  him  and  he  didn't  see  me.  Has 
anything  happened  at  the  mines,  do  you  know?  " 

But  Mrs.  Sabins  said  she  hadn't  heard  of  trouble. 
Maybe  Micky  had  been  up  to  mischief  again. 

And  they  both  laughed  affectionately.  The  parson 
never  looked  worried,  they  often  had  noticed,  unless 
somebody  had  been  very  bad  or  there  had  been  an  acci 
dent  in  mill  or  mine. 


io  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

But  it  was  not  things  at  home  that  sent  the  parson 
blind  and  deaf  down  the  street.  He  was  the  one  man 
in  Sabinsport,  outside  of  the  keeper  of  the  fruit  store 
and  a  half  dozen  miners  over  the  hill,  who  had  some 
understanding  of  the  awful  possibilities  of  Austria's  dec 
laration  of  war.  His  knowledge  came  from  the  years 
he  had  lived  as  a  student  in  England  —  the  summers  he 
had  spent  tramping  through  Middle  Europe. 

If  Richard  Ingraham's  education  had  taken  a  differ 
ent  turn  from  that  of  the  average  American  youth,  like 
Ralph  Gardner,  it  still  was  a  kind  common  enough 
among  us.  What  had  been  exceptional  about  it  was 
the  way  in  which  it  had  been  intensified  and  lengthened 
by  circumstances  of  health  and  family.  Dick  was  an 
orphan,  whose  youth  had  been  spent  with  his  guardian, 
an  elderly  and  scholarly  man  of  means,  in  one  of  those 
charming,  middle-west  towns  settled  early  in  the  nine 
teenth  century  by  New  Englanders,  their  severity  tem 
pered  by  a  sprinkling  of  Virginians  and  Kentuckians. 
Great  Rock,  as  the  town  was  called  from  a  conspicuous 
bluff  on  the  river,  was  planned  for  a  big  city;  but  the 
railroad  failed  it,  and  it  remained  a  quiet  town,  where  a 
few  men  and  women  ripened  into  happy,  dignified  old 
age,  but  from  which  youth  invariably  fled.  Dick  had 
lived  there,  until  he  entered  college  at  seventeen,  in  one 
of  the  finest  of  the  old  houses,  set  in  big  lawns,  shaded 
by  splendid,  sweeping  elms.  ;'  The  most  beautiful 
elms  in  the  United  States  are  not  in  New  England," 
Dick  used  to  tell  his  college  friends,  when  they  ex 
claimed  over  campus  elms.  "  They're  in  the  Middle 
West."  And  he  was  right. 

Dick's  guardian  had  set  out  to  give  the  boy  a  thor 
ough  training  in  those  things  he  thought  made  for  hap 
piness  and  usefulness.  He  had  read  with  him  from 
babyhood  until  Dick  could  no  more  go  without  books 
than  without  food.  He  had  started  him  early  in  Ian- 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  n 

guages.  He  had  given  him  horses,  and,  an  unusual 
accomplishment,  as  Dick  afterwards  learned,  had 
trained  him  to  walking.  A  tramping  trip  by  the  two  of 
them  had  been  one  of  Dick's  joys  from  the  time  he 
could  remember.  He  did  not  know  then  that  his  guar 
dian  had  more  than  pleasure  in  view  by  these  trips.  It 
was  only  later  that  he  discovered  that  the  regular  out 
side  life  into  which  he  had  been  trained  was  the  older 
man's  wise  way  of  counteracting  a  possible  development 
of  the  disease  of  which  both  his  parents  had  died,  and 
which  it  was  believed  he  had  inherited. 

When  the  time  came,  Dick  had  gone  East  to  college, 
and  from  there  he  was  sent  for  two  years  or  more  of 
Europe,  as  his  taste  might  dictate.  At  the  end  of  his 
first  year  his  guardian  had  died.  It  left  the  boy  quite 
alone  and  wholly  bewildered.  He  had  never  thought 
of  life  without  this  firm,  kind,  wise,  counseling  power. 
He  had  done  what  had  been  suggested,  and  always 
found  joy  in  it.  He  had  never  really  wanted  any 
thing  in  life,  as  he  could  remember.  His  guardian 
had  foreseen  everything.  And  now  what  was  he?  A 
boy  of  23,  with  comfortable  means,  a  passion  for 
reading,  for  travel  and  for  people,  and  that  was  all. 
He  must  have  a  profession.  It  was  his  need  of  a 
backing,  as  well  as  a  combination  of  aesthetic  and 
the  aesthete  in  him,  with  possibly  something  of  environ 
ment  —  for  he  happened  to  be  at  Oxford  when  news  of 
his  guardian's  death  came  —  that  decided  him  to  go 
into  the  Church. 

Dick  worked  hard  in  term  time,  but  all  his  long  and 
short  holidays  he  spent  tramping  Central  Europe. 
This  had  been  his  guardian's  request. 

'  You  will  come  back  some  day  to  your  own  land 
to  work,  Richard.  My  own  judgment  of  you  is  that 
you  will  find  your  greatest  interest  in  shaping  whatever 
profession  you  choose  to  meet  the  new  forms  of  social 


12  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

progress  which  each  generation  works  out.  I  think 
this  because  you  so  love  people.  You'll  never  be  con 
tent,  as  I  have  been,  with  books  and  solitude.  I  don't 
think  you  realize  how  full  your  life  has  been  of  human 
relations,  or  how  you  have  depended  on  them,  so  I  urge 
you  to  go  among  people  in  your  holidays,  common  peo 
ple,  to  be  one  of  them;  and  do  not  hurry  your  return. 
You  are  young.  Take  time  to  find  your  place." 

Dick  had  faithfully  followed  this  advice.  He  had 
spent  six  years  in  Europe  without  returning  to  the 
United  States.  He  was  thirty  when  he  came  back  to 
take  a  church  in  a  prosperous  and  highly  energetic  com 
munity.  One  year  had  been  enough.  They  kept  him 
busy  from  morning  until  night  with  their  useful  ac 
tivities.  To  this  he  did  not  object;  but  while  so  active 
he  had  been  chilled  to  the  bone  by  his  failure  to  get 
spiritual  reactions  from  his  parishioners.  Moreover, 
he  had  been  unable  to  establish  anything  like  compan 
ionship,  as  he  had  known  it,  with  any  one  in  his  church. 
He  resigned,  giving  as  his  reason:  "  I  am  not  earn 
ing  your  money.  I  don't  know  how."  It  was  a  sad 
blow  to  more  than  one  member  of  St.  Luke's,  for  while 
they  were  a  little  afraid  of  him  (which,  if  Dick  had 
known,  would  have  made  a  difference),  they  were  also 
enormously  proud  of  him. 

His  failure  turned  him  to  Great  Rock,  which  he  had 
never  had  the  heart  to  visit  since  his  guardian's  death. 
There  was  a  girl  there  he  had  always  carried  in  a 
shadowy  way  in  his  heart,  the  only  girl  he  ever  saw  in 
the  dreams  which  sometimes  disturbed  him  —  a  fair, 
frank,  lovely  thing,  he  remembered  her  to  have  been, 
Annie  Dunne.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  wanted 
his  mate.  He  couldn't  face  life  again  without  one. 
He  would  go  and  find  her.  Why,  why,  he  asked  him 
self,  had  he  not  done  this  before?  It  was  so  clear  that 
it  was  she  that  he  needed.  He  did  not  ask  himself  if 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  13 

he  loved  her.  He  knew  he  did.  As  for  Annie's  lov 
ing  him?  Had  he  waited  too  long?  Every  mile  of 
his  journey  westward  was  filled  with  recollections  of 
their  youth,  the  summer  evenings  on  the  veranda,  the 
winter  evenings  by  the  fireside.  And  her  letters,  never 
many,  but  how  dear  and  friendly  and  intimate  they  had 
been!  He  felt  so  sure  of  her,  almost  as  if  she  were 
telling  him,  "  I  knew  you  would  come." 

It  was  night  when  he  reached  Great  Rock.  He  was 
always  thankful  that  it  was  in  the  dark  that  he  heard 
the  words  at  her  door,  "  Miss  Annie?  Miss  Annie  is 
dead.  She  was  buried  a  week  ago." 

There  was  a  blank  space  after  that  which  Dick  never 
tried  to  fill.  All  he  knew  was  that  he  pulled  his  courage 
together  and  took  to  the  road,  Swiss  bag  on  his  back. 
He  seemed  to  have  no  friend  now  but  the  road,  and 
more  than  once  he  caught  himself  announcing  to  the 
long  winding  highways  he  followed  eastward,  "  You're 
all  I  have." 

He  was  in  the  hills  that  roll  up  from  the  Ohio  in 
long,  smooth  billows,  forming  lovely,  varied  valleys  for 
the  great  streams  that  feed  the  mighty  river,  and  mount 
ing  always  higher  as  you  go  toward  the  rising  sun,  until 
finally  they  are  mountains.  A  fine,  old  post  road  from 
the  East,  one  that  had  been  fought  over  by  French 
and  Indians  and  British  and  trod  by  Washington,  was 
Dick's  main  route.  He  knew  it  well,  for  as  a  boy  he 
had  more  than  once  walked  it  with  his  guardian. 
Moreover,  it  was  by  that  road  that  half  of  Great  Rock, 
his  own  family  included,  had  made  their  pioneer  trip 
into  what  was  then  the  West. 

He  often  spent  his  night  in  an  old  inn,  a  relic  of  those 
days,  with  thick  walls,  splendid  woodwork  and  great 
rooms,  but  low  and  narrow  doors,  built  at  a  time  when 
it  was  not  wise  to  have  too  generous  entrances  or  too 
many  windows. 


i4  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

Now  and  then  he  found  one  of  the  old  places  trans 
formed  into  a  modern  road-house,  for  the  automobile 
was  creating  a  demand  for  a  kind  of  accommodation 
the  country  had  not  needed  since  the  passing  of  the 
stage  coach.  Often  he  struck  off  the  highway  and  made 
detours  over  wooded  hills  and  along  little  traveled 
roads.  It  was  in  returning  from  one  of  these  excur 
sions  that,  late  one  September  afternoon,  he  discov 
ered  Sabinsport. 

He  had  been  quite  lost  all  day  and  walking  hard. 
As  he  came  across  a  valley  and  mounted  a  long  winding 
hill,  he  saw  by  the  growing  thickness  of  the  settlement 
that  he  was  approaching  a  town.  He  came  upon  it 
suddenly  as  he  went  over  the  brow  of  the  hill.  It  lay 
to  right  and  left,  stretching  down  and  over  two  natural 
terraces  to  a  river  which  formed  here  a  great  half 
moon.  The  whole  beautiful,  crystal  curve  was  visible 
from  where  Dick  stood  in  charmed  surprise.  The 
town  that  filled  the  mounting  semicircle,  in  spite  of  its 
wealth  of  trees,  could  be  roughly  traced.  On  the  high 
slope  which  ran  gently  down  from  where  he  stood  were 
scores  of  comfortable  houses  of  well-to-do  folk,  all  of 
them  with  generous  lawns.  They  ran  the  American 
architectural  gamut,  Dick  guessed,  for  he  could  see 
from  where  he  stood  a  big,  square  brick  with  ancient 
white  pillars,  the  front  of  a  dark-brown,  Washington 
Irving  Gothic,  and  the  highly  ornamental  cupola  which 
he  knew  meant  the  fashionable  style  of  the  sixties. 
He  was  quite  sure,  if  he  looked,  he  would  find  the  whole 
succession.  "  There's  a  nouveau  art  concealed  some 
where,"  he  thought  to  himself,  and  later  he  found  he 
was  right. 

The  big  houses  became  smaller  as  the  slope  de 
scended,  giving  way  for  what  Dick  guessed  was  a  red 
brick  business  section.  "  It  was  once  a  port,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "  The  Ohio  boats  came  up  here,  I  wager." 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  15 

From  the  south  and  opposite  bank  of  the  stream  rose 
a  steep  bluff  perhaps  two  hundred  feet  high.  Rows 
of  unpainted  houses  ran  along  the  river  bank  and  were 
scattered  in  a  more  or  less  haphazard  way  over  the 
face  of  the  bluff;  their  ugliness  softened  by  trees  which 
grew  in  abundance  on  the  steep  slopes.  The  most 
striking  feature  of  the  picture  was  a  great  iron  mill  to 
the  left.  It  filled  acres  of  land  along  the  south  river 
bank,  its  huge  black  stacks,  from  which  smoke  streamed 
straight  to  the  east,  rose  formal  and  imperative.  They 
were  amazingly  decorative  in  the  soft,  late  September 
day,  against  the  green  of  the  south  bluff,  and  curiously 
dominating.  "  We  are  the  strong  things  here,"  they 
said  to  him, — "  the  things  to  be  reckoned  with." 

As  Dick  walked  down  the  long  hill  looking  for  a 
hotel,  he  felt  more  of  his  old  joy  in  discovery,  more  of 
his  old  zestful  curiosity  than  in  many  a  day.  The 
beauty  of  the  place,  the  strong  note  of  distinction  the 
mills  made  in  the  picture,  had  finally  stirred  him.  His 
interest  was  further  aroused  when  he  walked  straight 
up  to  the  quaint  front  of  the  Hotel  Paradise.  It  was 
like  things  he  had  seen  years  before  in  the  South;  a 
long,  brick  building  with  steep  roof  and  tiny  gables 
fronted  by  narrow  verandas  with  slender,  girlish,  iron 
pillars.  The  arched  door  was  perfect  in  its  propor 
tions,  and  the  big  stone  hall  was  cool  and  inviting.  But 
once  inside,  Dick  suddenly  realized  that  somebody  had 
had  the  sense,  while  preserving  all  the  quaintness  of  a 
building  of  at  least  a  hundred  years  before,  so  to  fash 
ion  and  enlarge  it  as  to  make  a  thoroughly  comfort 
able,  modern  hotel.  His  curiosity  was  piqued,  though 
it  happened  to  be  years  before  he  learned  how  the  Para 
dise  had  been  preserved. 

The  night  brought  Dick  rest,  but  the  morning  found 
his  flare  of  interest  dead.  He  made  his  pack  with  a 
dull  need  of  moving  on,  and  he  would  have  done  so  if, 


1 6  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

when  he  came  into  the  office,  he  had  not  found  there  a 
group  of  white-faced,  horrified  men.  He  caught  the 
words,  "  On  fire."  "  One  hundred  and  fifty  men  shut 
in."  "  No  hope."  A  word  of  inquiry  and  he  learned 
that  at  a  near-by  coal  mine,  they  spoke  of  as  the 
"  Emma,"  there  had  been  a  terrible  disaster.  He 
learned  too  that  help  of  all  sorts  was  being  hurried  to 
the  place  by  the  "  spur,"  which,  as  he  rightly  guessed, 
was  the  road  connecting  the  mine  with  the  main  line  of 
the  railroad  which  he  had  traced  the  night  before  along 
the  south  bank  of  the  river. 

Dick  drank  a  cup  of  coffee  and  followed  a  hurrying 
crowd  to  where  an  engine  and  two  coal  cars  rapidly 
filling  with  all  the  articles  of  relief  that  on  the  instant 
could  be  gathered,  were  just  ready  to  leave.  Quickly 
sensing  the  leader,  a  young  man  of  not  over  twenty-five, 
Dick  said,  "  I'm  a  stranger,  but  I  might  be  useful.  I 
understand  something  of  relief  work.  I  speak  lan 
guages.  I  would  be  glad  to  go." 

The  man  gave  him  an  appraising  look.  "  Jump  in," 
he  said  curtly.  A  moment  later  they  were  off. 

The  coal  road  ran  from  the  river  to  the  top  of  the 
bluff  by  a  steep  and  perilous  grade.  It  came  out  on 
the  plateau  at  least  three  miles  from  the  mines,  but 
a  mile  and  a  half  away  they  first  saw  the  point  of 
the  steel  tipple  of  the  power  house  over  the  main 
shaft.  It  all  looked  peaceful  enough  to  the  straining 
eyes  of  the  men  on  the  flat  car.  It  was  not  until  they 
were  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  place  itself  that 
they  caught  the  outline  of  the  crowd  that  had  gath 
ered.  Dick's  first  thought  was,  "  How  quiet  they 
are !  "  They  were  quiet,  and  there  was  not  a  sound 
as  the  men  bounded  from  the  car  and  raced  through  to 
the  shaft  itself.  There  a  dreadful  sight  met  their  eyes. 
A  dozen  men  were  being  lifted  from  a  cage  that  had 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  17 

just  come  up.  It  took  but  a  glance  to  see  that  they 
were  dead  or  dying. 

It  was  days  later  before  Dick  learned  what  had  really 
happened.  Like  so  many  ghastly  mine  accidents,  the 
fire,  for  they  found  out  it  was  fire  which  was  ravaging 
the  mine,  had  come  from  a  trivial  cause,  so  trivial  that 
the  miners  themselves  who  were  within  reach  and 
might  easily  have  put  out  the  first  flame  had  not  taken 
the  trouble.  An  open  torch  had  come  in  contact  with 
a  bit  of  oily  rag.  It  had  fallen,  setting  fire  to  the 
refuse  on  a  passing  car.  To  that  no  one  paid  atten 
tion,  for  over  it  were  bundles  of  pressed  hay;  and  the 
tradition  in  the  mine  is  that  pressed  hay  will  not  burn. 

The  whole  thing  was  ablaze  before  the  men  had 
realized  what  was  happening.  There  was  no  water 
on  that  level,  and  they  had  been  ordered  to  run  the 
car  into  the  escape  shaft  and  dump  it  to  the  bottom, 
and  there  to  turn  on  the  hose.  So  great  was  the  smoke 
and  heat  from  the  blazing  stuff  that  the  men  below, 
who  had  promptly  enough  attacked  it,  were  driven 
back.  The  shaft  was  timbered,  and  before  they  knew 
it  the  timbers  were  blazing.  The  smoke  spread 
through  the  levels.  A  thing,  so  easy  to  stop  at  the 
beginning,  was  now  taking  appalling  proportions. 
Men  who  had  passed  by  the  flames  on  their  way  to  the 
1 130  cage  and  had  not  even  stopped  to  lend  a  hand  to 
put  it  out,  so  little  had  they  thought  it  necessary,  felt 
the  smoke  before  they  reached  the  top.  The  men  be 
low  on  the  second  and  third  levels  began  to  run  hither 
and  yon,  trying  to  notify  the  diggers  in  the  side  shafts. 
A  man  more  intelligent  than  the  others  urged  that  the 
fan  be  stopped.  It  was  done,  but  it  was  too  late.  The 
fire  was  master. 

A  second  load  of  men,  the  last  to  escape,  had  given 
the  people  at  the  top  a  sense  of  the  disaster.  The 


1 8  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

mine  manager  had  called  for  volunteers.  There  had 
not  been  a  minute's  hesitation.  Men  crowded  into  the 
cage,  not  all  miners.  Among  them  was  a  little- 
thought-of  chap,  an  Italian  street  vender.  Another, 
the  driver,  who  moved  everybody  who  came  and  went 
to  the  mines.  They  had  gone  down  without  hesita 
tion.  Halfway  down  the  smoke  began  to  overpower 
them,  but  they  went  on.  The  probability  is  that  they 
were  unconscious  before  they  reached  the  bottom,  for 
only  a  feeble  signal  was  given,  and  the  engineer,  not 
understanding,  did  not  respond.  It  was  only  when 
signals  did  not  come,  and  the  now  thoroughly  fright 
ened  crowd  had  pleaded  and  then  threatened  the  en 
gineer  that  he  had  brought  up  the  cage.  And  now  they 
were  taking  them  out  —  twelve  dead  men. 

It  was  four  days  later  when,  through  the  combined 
efforts  of  both  state  and  federal  mine  experts,  a  picked 
body  of  men  fitted  out  with  the  most  approved  life- 
saving  apparatus  made  their  first  trip  into  the  burning 
mine.  The  hours  of  waiting,  Dick  remembered  as 
long  as  he  lived.  The  whole  mining  village,  a  motley 
collection  of  nationalities  now  fused  into  one,  stood 
around  the  shaft  for  four  hours  before  the  first  sig 
nal  was  given,  a  peremptory  call  to  raise  the  cage. 
As  it  came  up  and  the  few  that  were  allowed  at  the 
shaft  saw  who  were  in  it,  such  a  shout  of  exultant  joy 
as  Dick  had  never  heard  came  from  them,  "  They 
are  alive!  "  "  They  are  alive!  "  And  certainly  here 
were  men,  believed  to  be  dead,  alive,  twelve  of  them, 
their  pallor  and  wanness  showing  through  their  black 
ened  faces,  too  weak  to  walk;  yet  almost  unaided,  they 
tottered  out,  and  one  after  another  dropped  into  the 
arms  of  women  and  children  who  sobbed  and  shouted 
over  them. 

The  news  quickly  spread,  twenty  men,  who  had 
walled  themselves  up  had  been  found  alive  after  four 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  19 

days  of  waiting.  They  believed  they  would  get  them 
all  out  alive.  The  cage  descended  and  shortly  after 
the  signal  was  given  to  raise,  and  eight  more  came  up 
alive.  Such  a  tremendous  burst  of  hope  and  joy  as  it 
is  rarely  given  men  to  see  spread  through  the  stricken 
crowd.  If  twenty  were  alive,  might  it  not  be  that  the 
other  hundred  were?  But  it  was  not  to  be!  The 
draft  had  aroused  the  smoldering  flames,  and  when  the 
cage  attempted  again  to  descend  sharp  signals  were 
soon  given.  This  time  it  was  only  the  rescue  party 
that  came  up,  and  they  were  in  various  stages  of  col 
lapse.  The  cry  went  out,  "  She  has  broken  out!  " 
"  She  has  broken  out!  "  The  reaction  on  the  stricken 
crowd,  after  its  hours  of  hope  and  joy,  was  prostrating. 
Men  and  women  sobbed  aloud.  They  knew  too  well 
that  the  reviving  fire  meant  that  there  was  nothing  to 
do  but  to  seal  the  main  shaft.  No  other  way  to 
smother  the  fire.  White-faced,  heavy-hearted  men  did 
the  work;  and  it  was  not  until  ten  days  later  that  the 
experts  on  the  ground  pronounced  it  safe  to  open  the 
mine. 

Through  this  long  fortnight  of  agony  and  waiting, 
Dick  stayed  in  the  settlement.  From  the  time  that  he 
had  bounded  from  the  flat  car  with  the  relief  party 
there  had  never  been  a  moment  that  he  had  not  been 
busy.  The  fact  that  he  knew  a  little  of  everybody's 
language,  enough  to  make  himself  understood  at  least; 
the  fact  that  he  understood  their  customs,  had  made 
many  of  the  miners  open  their  hearts  to  him  in  a  way 
which  otherwise  would  have  been  impossible.  Dick 
had  that  wonderful  thing,  the  ability  to  be  at  home 
with  people  of  any  sort  or  of  any  nation.  He  seemed 
at  once  to  the  miners  to  be  one  of  them  in  a  way  that 
not  even  those  in  authority  whom  they  had  known  long 
est  could  be. 

But  it  was  not  only  to  the  people  that  he  had  made 


20  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

himself  a  helpful  friend.  In  a  hundred  ways  he  had 
instinctively  and  unconsciously  worked  with  Jack  Mulli 
gan,  the  stern  young  man  who  had  bid  him  to  jump  on 
the  flat  car  the  morning  that  they  had  started  from 
Sabinsport.  Jack,  he  had  found,  was  the  son  of  the 
man  who  had  opened  the  mines,  a  man  known  as 
"  Jake,"  and,  as  Dick  was  to  discover,  a  man  notorious, 
but  beloved. 

Mining  had  been  in  the  blood  of  Jack  Mulligan.  If 
he  had  had  his  way  he  would  have  taken  a  pick  at  six 
teen,  and  worked  his  way  up.  His  mother,  long  dead, 
had  extracted  a  promise  from  her  devoted  but  riotous 
husband  that  Jack  should  have  the  best  education  the 
country  would  afford,  if  he  would  take  It.  And  be 
cause  it  was  his  mother's  wish,  he  had  taken  it;  but  he 
had  turned  it  into  the  way  of  his  own  tastes.  He  had 
thrown  himself  heartily  into  the  work  of  the  great 
technological  institute  to  which  he  had  been  sent.  He 
had  taken  all  of  the  special  training  as  a  mining  engi 
neer  that  the  country  afforded,  and  he  had  studied  the 
best  work  of  foreign  mines.  When  he  had  come  back 
at  twenty-four  to  his  own  home,  it  was  the  understand 
ing  that  he  was  to  be  employed  as  a  general  manager, 
not  in  any  way  to  supplant  the  educated  but  tried  men 
that  had  grown  up  under  his  father,  but,  as  he  planned 
it,  to  modernize  the  mine. 

Jack's  heart  was  set  on  making  the  mines  safe.  No 
serious  accident  had  ever  happened  in  them  and  to  his 
father's  mind  that  was  proof  enough  that  no  serious 
accident  would  ever  happen,  and  the  plans  for  lighting, 
supporting  and  airing  that  Jack  brought  back  he  treated 
first  with  contempt,  then  with  a  sort  of  fatherly  toler 
ance,  only  yielding  inch  by  inch  as  he  saw  how  much 
this  boy,  whom  he  adored  and  in  whom  his  pride  was 
so  great,  had  them  at  heart.  Jack  had  finally  brought 
his  father  to  consent  to  electrify  the  mines  completely. 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  21 

The  whole  equipment  had  been  ordered.  In  a  few 
months  at  least  it  would  be  in  place,  and  now  this  fear 
ful  thing  had  happened.  No  wonder  that  day  after 
day  as  he  went  about  white  and  silent  among  the  people, 
his  heart  was  bitter,  not  against  his  father,  but  against 
the  horrible  set  of  circumstances  that  had  led  to  the 
thing  he  had  always  feared  and  which  he  believed  that 
he  was  going  to  prevent.  Dick  little  by  little  got  the 
story,  and  his  sympathy  with  the  boy  was  hardly  more 
than  he  felt  for  the  rugged,  old  man,  who,  like  Jack, 
never  left  the  mining  settlement,  but  followed  his  son 
about  in  a  beaten,  dogged  silent  way  which  at  times 
brought  tears  to  Dick's  eyes. 

The  horror  of  the  disaster  brought  scores  of  people 
to  Sabinsport,  and  every  day  they  filled  the  little  settle 
ment.  There  were  the  Union  organizers;  there  was 
a  score  or  more  of  reporters;  there  were  investigators 
of  all  degrees  of  intelligence  and  hysteria.  Among 
these  Ralph  circulated.  He  had  bought  the  Argus 
but  a  few  months  before  the  disaster.  His  very  lack 
of  personal  acquaintance  with  the  stockholders,  officers 
or  active  managers  of  the  mine  left  him  without  any  of 
the  moderating  personal  feeling  which  a  man  who  had 
long  known  the  town  might  have  had.  Ralph  saw 
just  one  thing,  that  the  two  leading  stockholders  in  the 
"  Emma,"  the  men  who  had  always  run  it,  were  the 
two  most  unscrupulous  and  adroit  politicians  in  that 
part  of  the  world  —  the  two  that  he  had  set  out  from 
the  start  to  "  get."  He  felt  that  in  the  mine  disaster 
he  had,  as  he  said,  "  the  goods."  They,  particularly 
Jake,  were  responsible  for  this  awful  thing.  And 
never  a  day  that  he  did  not  in  the  Argus  publish  wrath 
ful  and  indignant  articles,  trying  to  arouse  the  com 
munity.  He  received  no  protest  from  his  victims. 
Jake  was  so  overwhelmed  by  the  disaster  itself,  so  ab 
sorbed  in  what  he  knew  his  son  was  going  through,  that 


22  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

the  Argus  was  hardly  a  pin  prick  to  him.  It  was  Dick 
that  discovered  how  hard  it  was  for  the  old  man.  In 
that  hundred  men  who  never  came  back  alive  there  had 
been  a  full  score  that  had  grown  up  with  him,  that  had 
stood  by  always  in  the  development  of  the  "  Emma." 
They  were  the  trusted  men,  the  permanent,  responsi 
ble  men,  who,  if  they  had  not  made  money,  were  still 
in  Jake's  opinion  his  greatest  asset.  And  then  they 
were  his  friends.  With  these  burdens  on  his  heart, 
why  should  he  mind  a  little  thing  like  the  Argus? 

Almost  immediately  after  the  disaster,  Dick  found 
that  the  place  was  swarming  with  claim  agents,  some 
of  whom  he  instinctively  felt  were  untrustworthy.  Fa 
miliar  as  he  was  with  the  whole  theory  of  accident 
compensation,  he  immediately  informed  himself  about 
the  laws  of  the  State.  They  were  practically  null.  It 
was  then  that  he  went  to  Ralph  and  laid  before  him  the 
possibility  of  using  this  disaster  as  a  means  of  securing 
in  the  State  a  fair  compensation  law.  And  he  said  to 
him  very  frankly,  "  I  believe  that  if  the  Union  leaders 
here,  the  better  class  of  investigators,  you  yourself, 
would  but  put  this  thing  before  the  officers  of  this  mine, 
that  they  would  take  the  lead  and  voluntarily  accept  a 
liberal  system  of  compensation.  If  they  would  do 
this,  it  probably  would  clinch  the  campaign  for  a  state 
compensation  law." 

It  was  a  wise  suggestion.  Ralph,  who  had  been 
spending  his  force  in  violent  and  personal  attack,  im 
mediately  began  to  work  on  something  like  a  program. 
In  the  meantime  Dick,  who  by  this  time  had  won  the 
entire  confidence  of  Jack,  opened  the  matter.  It 
needed  no  argument.  He  lost  no  time  in  putting  it  be 
fore  his  father,  who  at  the  moment  was  ready  to  agree 
to  anything  that  the  boy  wanted. 

The  various  interests  of  the  mine  were  called  to 
gether  with  expert  labor  men  and  others  who  were  in- 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  23 

formed  and  influential.  It  did  not  go  through  with 
out  a  fight.  There  were  stockholders  in  Sabinsport 
and  elsewhere  who,  hearing  of  the  liberal  plans  that 
were  being  discussed,  wrote  anonymous  notes,  protest 
ing  against  the  diversion  of  the  stockholders'  dividends 
in  sentimental  and  Utopian  plans.  Reuben  Cpwder 
stood  steadfastly  against  the  scheme.  To  him  it  was 
utterly  impractical,  an  un-heard-of  thing.  While  the 
matter  was  being  discussed,  Ralph  hammered  daily, 
wisely  and  unwisely.  It  touched  Dick  to  the  heart  that 
Jack  never  but  once  spoke  of  this,  and  that  was  one 
day  when  he  said,  "  He  is  right  in  the  main,  but  it  would 
be  easier  for  me  if  he  would  be  a  little  less  bitter  against 
Cowder  and  my  father."  In  the  end  the  whole  gen 
erous  plan  was  adopted.  It  came  about  by  Reuben 
Cowder's  sudden  withdrawal  of  opposition.  It  was 
years  before  Dick  learned  the  reason  of  this  unex 
plained  and  unexpected  change  of  front. 

It  was  not  until  the  struggle  over  compensation  was 
ended  that  Dick  suddenly  remembered  that  he  was  only 
a  wayfarer  in  Sabinsport,  a  traveler  delayed  en  route. 
With  the  remembrance  came  the  realization  of  what 
these  people  had  come  to  mean  to  him,  that  he  was 
actually  more  interested  in  this  community  than  in  any 
other  spot  on  earth.  Unconsciously  he  seemed  to  have 
grown  into  the  town,  to  belong  to  it. 

In  the  end  it  came  about  naturally  enough  that  he 
should  stay  on.  A  little  church  in  the  town  had  lost 
by  death  a  clergyman,  twenty  years  in  its  service.  The 
little  band  of  communicants  were  fastidious  and  con 
servative.  In  the  disaster  which  had  for  a  time  swept 
down  all  the  barriers  in  the  community  they  had  be 
come  deeply  interested  in  Dick.  His  hallmarks  were 
so  much  finer  than  any  they  had  ever  dreamed  possible 
to  secure  for  their  church,  that  it  was  with  some  trepi 
dation  that  they  suggested  that  he  stay  on  with  them. 


24  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

They  were  even  willing  to  wink  at  what  their  richest 
member,  a  grumbling  stockholder  in  the  Emma  mine, 
called  his  "  revolutionary  notions." 

The  Bishop  was  willing  to  wink  at  them  too. 
'  They  need  you,  boy,"  he  had  told  him,  "  even  more 
than  they  want  you.  They  are  in  a  fair  way  to  die  of 
respectability.  You  can  perhaps  resurrect  them;  but 
don't  try  to  do  it  by  shock  treatment.  You  have  the 
advantage  of  not  being  an  applicant." 

And,  consenting  only  for  an  accommodation,  Dick 
accepted,  and  remained.  He  soon  came  to  call  Sa- 
binsport  home.  Moreover,  he  was  happy.  He  re 
alized  in  his  leisure  moments,  of  which  he  had  few 
enough,  that  he  was  happy  without  several  things  that 
he  had  supposed  essential  to  happiness  —  without  a 
home,  a  wife,  a  child,  companions  of  similar  training 
and  outlook  to  his  own. 

The  town  interested  him  profoundly.  It  was  his 
first  close  contact  with  an  old  American  town  which  had 
undergone  industrial  treatment.  He  felt  its  cosmo 
politan  character,  something  of  which  the  inhabitants 
themselves  were  quite  unconscious.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  all  sorts  of  people  were  blending  in  Sabinsport. 
A  thin  pioneer  stream  of  Scotch,  Irish  and  English  had 
settled  the  original  lands,  and  early  in  the  nineteenth 
century  had  selected  as  their  trading  post  the  point  on 
the  river  which  had  afterwards  become  Sabinsport. 

The  port  had  prospered  amazingly  in  those  first 
days.  After  forty  years  and  more  it  looked  as  if  it 
were  destined  to  be  the  metropolis  of  that  part  of  the 
world.  Then  the  first  railroad  came  across  country, 
and  it  left  Sabinsport  out.  A  smaller,  poorer  rival, 
some  twenty-five  miles  away,  secured  the  prize.  Slowly 
but  surely  the  trade  that  had  so  long  put  into  Sabinsport 
changed  its  course  to  what  only  too  soon  they  began  to 
call  the  City.  Fewer  and  fewer  boats  came  up  the 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  25 

river,  fewer  and  fewer  coaches  and  laden  .wagons  came 
from  the  up-country.  The  town  submitted  with  poor 
grace  to  its  inevitable  decline.  To  this  day  Dick  found 
that  the  older  families  particularly  were  jealous  of  the 
city  and  resented  its  unconscious  patronage.  It  had 
become  the  habit  in  Sabinsport  to  sneer  at  the  city  as 
vulgar,  pushing  and  brutal,  though  these  feelings  did 
not  prevent  her  from  patronizing  its  shops  and  amuse 
ments. 

This  early  disappointment  had  not  by  any  means 
prevented  the  steady  growth  of  the  town.  Coal  had 
been  discovered,  adding  a  second  layer  of  the  rich  to 
Sabinsport.  The  coal  had  brought  the  railroad  and 
factories,  but  it  was  still  those  early  settlers  who  had 
first  come  into  the  town  and  built  the  splendid  old 
houses,  with  their  spacious  grounds,  that  considered 
themselves  the  aristocracy.  It  was  an  aristocracy  a 
little  insistent  with  newcomers  on  its  superiority,  a  lit 
tle  scornful  of  its  successors.  It  considered  itself  the 
backbone  of  Sabinsport,  which  was  natural;  and  it  was 
quite  unconscious  that  the  facts  were  every  day  dis 
puting  its  pretensions. 

Slowly  and  inevitably  Sabinsport  had  been  and  was 
digesting  successive  waves  of  peoples.  When  the 
mines  first  opened  there  had  been  an  incoming  of 
Welsh.  Only  a  few  of  them  were  left  in  the  mines 
now.  They  had  saved  their  money  and  had  come  into 
the  town.  Their  children  had  learned  trades,  indeed 
there  was  a  corner  of  the  high  land  known  as  Welsh 
Hill;  a  place  where  one  found  reliable  workmen  of  all 
sorts,  and  a  place  too  which  was  famous  for  its  music; 
indeed,  Welsh  Hill  sent  a  famous  chorus  every  year 
to  the  annual  musical  festival  in  the  City.  On  Christ 
mas  morning  they  still  promenaded  the  streets,  waking 
people  out  of  their  sleep  with  their  Christmas  carols. 

The  Germans  had  come  into  the  mines  soon  after 


26  THE  RISING  OF  THE. TIDE 

the  Welsh.  They  too  had  been  thrifty  —  bought  prop 
erty.  There  were  several  of  them  that  were  counted 
among  the  best  citizens;  among  them  was  a  man, 
Rupert  Littman,  who  once  had  milked  his  father's 
cows  and  raked  his  hay  and  now  was  president  of  one 
of  the  richest  banks,  a  stockholder  in  every  enterprise. 
They  had  been  much  more  thoroughly  absorbed  into 
the  social  and  business  life  than  any  other  people,  and 
much  that  was  good  in  Sabinsport  was  due  to  them. 

As  the  years  had  gone  on,  as  more  mines  had  been 
opened,  and  as  mills  had  been  built,  a  motley  of  people 
had  come :  Austrian*,  Serbs,  Russians,  Greeks,  Italians, 
and  now  and  then  an  Armenian.  With  all  of  these 
Dick  felt  himself  very  much  at  home.  They  seemed 
familiar  to  him,  more  familiar,  he  sometimes  thought, 
than  the  smiling,  busy,  competent  Americans  of  his 
church.  There  was  a  small  group  of  Serbians  at  the 
mines  with  whom  he  had  been  especially  intimate  in 
the  years  of  the  Balkan  War.  More  than  one  had 
left  the  mines  to  go  back  to  Serbia  to  fight.  They  had 
been  most  exultant  with  the  outcome  of  the  war.  The 
most  intelligent  of  this  group  was  Nikola  Petrovitch, 
a  thoughtful  fellow  of  thirty-five  or  forty,  an  ardent 
Pan-Slavist.  It  was  only  because  of  an  injury  he  had 
sustained  in  the  mine  at  the  time  of  the  great  disaster 
that  he  had  not  gone  out  in  1912.  He  had  followed 
with  Dick  every  step  of  the  war,  chafing  bitterly  that 
it  was  impossible  for  him  to  be  in  the  fight.  When  at 
the  end  of  June,  1914,  the  news  of  the  murder  of  the 
Grand  Duke  had  come,  Nikola  had  been  terribly  cast 
down.  "  If  our  people  did  it,"  he  said,  "  it  was  a  mis 
take."  Every  line  of  news  from  that  day  he  had  dis 
cussed  with  Dick.  He  had  believed  from  the  first  that 
Austria  intended  now  to  use  all  her  power  to  crush 
Serbia;  and  "  Germany  will  help  her,"  he  used  to  say. 
The  practical  acceptance  of  Austria's  ultimatum  had 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  27 

given  Dick  hope  in  the  situation.  It  did  not  seem  pos 
sible  to  him  that  any  country,  however  autocratic  and 
greedy,  could  push  demand  beyond  the  point  which  the 
Serbians  had  accepted. 

Dick  had  other  friends.  There  was  the  Greek, 
John  A.  Papalagos,  as  the  sign  on  his  flourishing  fruit 
and  vegetable  store  had  it.  People  smiled  at  the  time 
they  knew  that  the  Parson  spent  with  the  fruit  seller. 
What  they  did  not  realize  was  that  this  man  with  his 
queer  name  was  probably  as  well  read  as  any  man  of 
the  town,  certainly  far  better  read  in  European  affairs 
than  any  of  the  leading  citizens  of  Sabinsport.  His 
ambition  was  a  Greek  republic,  and  every  move  on  the 
European  political  checker-board  he  watched  with  ex 
cited  and  intelligent  interest,  calculating  how  it  was 
going  to  deter  or  forward  the  one  ardent  passion  of  his 
life. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  it  was  only  with  Papalagos  and 
the  Serbians  on  the  hill  that  Dick  was  able  to  carry  on 
any  really  intelligent  exchange  of  views  on  European 
politics.  Ralph,  who  ought  to  have  been,  he  felt,  his 
comrade  in  these  matters,  had  practically  no  interest 
in  them.  This  indifference  always  puzzled  and  dis 
mayed  Dick.  European  politics,  in  Ralph's  opinion, 
were  as  unrelated  to  the  United  States  as  the  politics 
of  Mars.  One  feature  only  he  treated  with  interest, 
and  that  was  Germany's  social  work.  The  forms  of 
social  insurance  she  had  devised  interested  him  keenly. 
He  had  regularly  written  enthusiastic  editorials  on  the 
way  she  met  the  breaking  down  of  men  through  age, 
illness,  accident.  Her  handling  of  employment  was 
one  of  his  stock  subjects.  Germany  was  socially  effi 
cient  in  his  mind,  preserving  men  power,  "  as  well  as 
machines  and  hogs,"  as  he  put  it  in  the  phrase  of  his 
school.  He  pictured  her  as  a  land  where  every  man 
and  woman  was  well  housed,  continuously  employed, 


28  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

cared  for  in  sickness  or  in  health,  and  that  was  all 
Ralph  knew  about  Germany.  When  Dick,  who  had 
tramped  the  land  from  end  to  end,  put  in  a  protest  and 
mentioned  the  army  as  the  end  of  all  this  care  of  human 
beings,  Ralph  broke  out  in  a  violent  defense  of  the 
military  system.  It  was  merely  a  way  of  training  men 
physically  and  arousing  in  them  social  solidarity.  A 
nation  couldn't  do  what  Germany  did  for  men  and 
women  unless  she  loved  them.  It  was  what  the  United 
States  needed. 

Outside  of  these  devices  for  meeting  the  breaking 
down  of  human  beings,  Ralph  took  no  interest  in 
Europe.  His  attitude  through  the  Balkan  War  had 
baffled  Dick  by  its  perfunctoriness.  He  published  the 
news  as  it  came  to  him  daily.  He  kept  the  maps  on 
his  walls,  and  now  and  then  he  wrote  a  few  correct 
paragraphs,  noting  the  change  in  situation.  He  was 
pleased  that  the  power  of  Turkey  was  limited  at  the 
end,  for  he  did  have  a  hazy  notion  of  the  undesirable- 
ness  of  Turkey  in  Europe,  but  beyond  this  there  was 
neither  feeling  nor  understanding. 

How,  Dick  asked  himself,  could  a  man  of  Ralph's 
ability  spend  four  years  in  a  first-class  American  college 
and  two  on  a  great  newspaper  and  still  be  so  com 
pletely  cut  off  from  the  affairs  of  the  globe  outside  of 
the  United  States?  It  was  a  fact,  but  Dick  could  not 
understand  how  it  could  be  a  fact.  It  gave  him  his 
first  real  sense  of  the  newness  of  the  country,  its  entire 
absorption  in  itself. 

Ralph  defended  this  indifference.  "  They're  noth 
ing  to  us,"  he  declared.  '  We're  too  busy  taking  care 
of  their  scrap  heaps.  A  million  a  year  coming  here  to 
be  reconstructed  and  Americanized,  why  should  we 
bother  about  what  Europe  thinks  or  does?  We're  too 
busy.  They  can't  touch  us." 

As  Dick  walked  out  to  the  "  Emma  "  that  night  after 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  29 

supper,  he  felt  keenly  his  isolation.  His  mind  was  full 
of  dread.  Europe  and  her  affairs  had  long  been  like 
a  chess-board  to  him.  For  years  with  his  fellows  at 
Oxford,  with  Times  correspondents  in  different  con 
tinental  cities,  with  a  host  of  scattered  acquaintances 
of  various  points  of  view,  he  had  played  the  fascinating 
game  of  speculation  and  forecast  that  traps  every  stu 
dent  of  history  and  politics  who  in  the  last  forty  years 
has  spent  any  length  of  time  in  any  great  continental 
center.  Dick  knew  something  of  the  ambitions  of 
every  nation  in  Europe,  something  of  their  temper  and 
their  antipathies.  He  had  in  mind  all  possible  line 
ups.  He  knew  as  well  as  any  European  statesman  that 
if  Austria  declared  war  on  Serbia,  there  would  prob 
ably  be  Russian  interference,  and  if  Russia  went  in  — 
"  My  God,"  he  groaned  to  himself,  "  Der  Tag  is  here 
at  last.  It's  the  '  nacheste  Krieg.' ' 

He  tried  hard,  as  he  walked,  to  push  away  the  de 
pression  which  was  overwhelming  him.  "  Of  course, 
they'll  stop  it,"  he  told  himself;  "  they  have  before. 
It  is  folly  for  me  to  let  this  thing  get  hold  of  me  in  this 


wav." 


It  was  twilight  when  he  crossed  the  fields  to  the  min 
ing  settlement  and  made  for  the  house  of  his  friend 
Nikola  Petrovitch.  In  the  dim  light  the  little  house 
looked  very  pleasant.  Stana  Petrovitch  loved  her  gar 
den,  and  the  severe  outlines  of  the  company  house 
were  softened  with  blossoming  honeysuckle,  which  filled 
the  air  with  a  faint  perfume.  It  was  very  sweet  to 
see,  but  before  Dick  was  near  enough  to  get  more  than 
a  pleasant  outline,  from  the  house  there  came  a  burst 
of  strong,  fierce  song  —  a  dozen  voices,  eloquent  with 
emotion.  How  well  he  knew  it!  The  Serbian  Na 
tional  Anthem : 


30  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

"  God  of  Justice !     Thou  Who  saved  us 

When  in  deepest  bondage  cast, 
Hear  Thy  Serbian  children's  voices, 

Be  our  help  as  in  the  past. 
With  Thy  mighty  hand  sustain  us, 

Still  our  rugged  pathway  trace; 
God,  our  Hope!  protect  and  cherish 

Serbian  crown  and  Serbian  race! 

"  On  our  sepulcher  of  ages 

Breaks  the  resurrection  morn, 
From  the  slough  of  direst  slavery 

Serbia  anew  is  born. 
Through  five  hundred  years  of  durance 

We  have  knelt  before  Thy  face, 
All  our  kin,  O  God!  deliver! 

Thus  entreats  the  Serbian  race.     Amen." 

It  was  what  he  knew.  Nikola,  Yovan,  Marta.  They 
were  going. 

11  God  help  the  women,"  he  said  to  himself.  Turn 
ing,  he  went  around  and  to  the  street.  It  was  the  end 
of  a  shift,  and  the  men  who  had  come  out  had  washed, 
eaten  and  now  were  smoking  their  pipes  in  groups  at 
one  or  another  door.  The  women  were  collected  too. 
There  was  excitement  in  the  air. 

"  Mr.  Dick,"  some  one  called  to  him.  "  Is  it  true, 
the  war?" 

"  I  am  afraid  so,"  he  said. 

"  And  what  are  they  jumping  on  poor  little  Serbia 
for,  a  big  one  like  Austria?  That's  your  kings  for 
you." 

It  was  one  of  his  Irish  friends  speaking. 

"  But  they'll  fight,  them  Serbians;  they're  scrappers 
all  right.  Nikola  is  going  in  the  morning.  Marta 
too.  It  is  good  to  live  in  a  country  where  they  don't 
have  wars." 

"  Nikola's  foolish  to  go,"  broke  in  some  one.     "  I 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  31 

told  his  woman  so,  and  she  flared  up  and  said,  '  He  no 
go,  I  go!  Serbian  men  fight  —  not  'fraid.'  I  guess 
she's  right.  I  don't  see  what  she  is  going  to  do,  five 
kids  too." 

Dick  walked  on.  One  of  the  foremen  dropped  out 
of  the  group  that  sat  on  the  porch. 

"  May  I  speak  with  you,  Mr.  Dick?  "  he  said.  "  A 
man  came  to-night,  Serbian.  He  was  here  when 
Nikola  and  Marta  came  up,  and  went  home  with  them. 
Nikola  was  just  here.  He  told  me  Serbia  was  going 
to  war,  and  that  he  and  Marta  and  Yovan  were  leav 
ing  in  the  morning.  What's  the  row?  Is  there  a 
war?" 

Dick  told  him  all  he  knew.  The  foreman's  brief 
comment  was,  "  Must  be  some  country  that  will  take 
a  man  like  Nikola  out  of  a  job  like  his  —  family  too." 

"  It  is,"  said  Dick. 

Back  at  home  he  called  up  Ralph.  "  Better  be  sure 
that  some  one  is  at  the  10:30  to-morrow  morning, 
Sam.  Nikola  is  leaving.  Marta  and  Yovan  too." 

"  Leaving,"  said  Ralph.  "  Why,  they're  the  best 
men  in  the  '  Emma.'  You  don't  mean  they're  fools 
enough  to  rush  out  without  knowing  whether  there's 
going  to  be  a  war.  It  will  be  over  before  they  get 
there.  Stop  'em,  Dick.  It  is  nonsense." 

'*  There'll  be  a  war  when  they  get  there,  all  right, 
Ralph,  and  no  man  could  hold  Nikola  now.  Make  a 
note  of  their  going,  won't  you?  " 

"  Sure,  if  you  want  it." 

If  you  will  examine  the  personal  column  of  the 
Sabinsport  Argus  for  July  29,  1914,  you  will  find 
among  other  items,  this : 

"  Nikola  Petrovitch,  Yovan  Markovitch,  and 
Marta  Popovitch,  all  of  the  '  Emma  '  mine,  left  at 
10:30  this  morning  for  New  York.  They  expect  to 


32  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

sail  at  once  for  Serbia,  where  they  will  join  the  army 
which  has  been  called  into  the  field  by  Austria's  declara 
tion  of  war.  Hope  to  see  you  back  soon,  boys." 

And  thus  it  was  that  the  Great  War  first  came  to 
Sabinsport. 


CHAPTER  II 

A  RIPPLE  of  interest  ran  over  a  few  quarters  of 
Sabinsport  when  it  read  of  the  sudden  departure 
of  three  Serbian  miners.  At  the  banks,  and  in 
the  offices  of  the  mills  and  factories,  men  sniffed  or 
swore,  "  Doesn't  a  man  know  when  he  is  well  off?  I 
don't  understand  how  a  steady  fellow  like  Nikola 
Petrovitch  can  do  such  a  crazy  thing.  Who  is  going 
to  take  care  of  his  family?  "  This  was  the  usual  busi 
ness  view. 

A  few  members  of  the  Ladies'  Aid  of  Dick's  church 
grumbled  to  him.  "  We  will  have  that  family  on  our 
hands  again.  Couldn't  you  stop  him?  " 

It  was  momentary  interest  only.  Austria's  declara 
tion  of  war  had  not  entered  their  minds.  Dick  felt 
that  if  he  had  asked  some  of  the  members  of  his  con 
gregation  who  had  declared  war,  they  might  have  said, 
"  Serbia."  The  repeated  shocks  of  the  news  of  the 
next  few  days  battered  down  indifference.  Each  night 
and  each  morning  there  fell  into  the  community  facts 
—  terrible,  unbelievable  —  stunning  and  horrifying  it. 
Germany  had  invaded  Belgium.  She  was  battering 
down  Liege.  Why,  what  did  it  mean?  England  had 
declared  war  on  Germany.  She  was  calling  out  an 
army,  but  what  for?  And  we  —  we  were  to  be  neutral, 
of  course.  We  had  nothing  to  do  with  it. 

The  town  discussed  the  news  of  that  dreadful  week 
in  troubled  voices,  reading  the  paper  line  by  line,  curi 
ous,  awed  —  but  quite  detached.  The  first  sense  of 
connection  came  when  the  Argus  announced  that  Patsy 
McCullon  was  lost.  The  last  her  family  had  heard  of 
her  she  was  in  Belgium.  They  had  cabled  —  could 
get  no  word.  Now  Patsy  was  Sabinsport' s  pride. 


34  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

She  was  an  example,  so  High  Town  said,  of  what  a 
girl  could  make  of  herself,  though  as  a  matter  of  fact 
better  backing  than  Patsy  had  for  her  achievement  it 
would  be  hard  to  find.  Her  father  and  mother  were 
of  the  reliable  Scotch  stock  which  had  come  a  hundred 
years  before  to  the  country  near  Sabinsport.  Here 
Patsy's  grandfather  had  settled  and  prospered.  Here 
her  father  had  been  born  and  here  he  still  carried  on 
the  original  McCullon  farm.  He  had  married  a  u  na 
tive  "  like  himself,  and  like  himself  well-to-do.  They 
had  worked  hard  and  they  had  to  show  for  their  efforts 
as  comfortable  and  attractive  a  place  as  the  district 
boasted  —  not  a  "show  farm,"  like  Ralph  Cowder's, 
but  clean,  generous  acres  —  many  of  them  —  substan 
tial  buildings  always  shining  with  fresh  paint,  herds  of 
cattle  and  flocks  of  sheep,  gardens,  vines,  orchards. 

The  McCullons  had  one  child,  Patsy.  You'd  go 
far  to  find  anything  firmer  on  its  feet  than  Patsy  Mc 
Cullon,  anything  that  knew  better  its  own  mind  or  went 
more  promptly  and  directly  after  the  thing  it  wanted. 
Patsy  was  twenty-four.  Since  the  hour  she  was  born, 
she  had  been  her  own  mistress.  When  she  was  ten 
she  had  elected  to  go  into  town  to  school.  When  she 
was  sixteen  she  had  graduated,  and  the  next  year  she 
had  gone  to  college.  Her  father  and  mother  had  put 
in  a  feeble  protest.  They  needed  her.  She  was  an 
only  child.  They  had  "  enough."  Why  not  settle 
down?  But  Patsy  said  firmly,  No.  She  was  going 
to  u  prepare  to  do  something."  When  they  asked  her 
what,  she  said  quite  frankly  she  didn't  know.  She'd 
see.  She  knew  the  first  thing  was  education  and  she 
meant  to  have  it.  She'd  teach  and  pay  back  if  they 
said  so,  but  Father  McCullon  hastened  to  say  that  it 
"  wasn't  necessary."  He  guessed  she  could  have  what 
she  wanted.  And  so  Patsy  had  gone  East  to  college. 
She  had  graduated  with  honor  two  years  before  the 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  35 

war  and  had  come  back  to  Sabinsport  to  take  a  position 
in  the  high  school. 

If  Patsy  had  been  able  to  analyze  the  motives  back 
of  her  career  to  date  she  would  have  found  the  dominat 
ing  one  to  have  been  a  determination  to  make  Sabins 
port  —  select,  rich,  satisfied  Sabinsport  —  take  her  in. 
She  had  been,  as  a  little  girl,  conscious  that  these  hand 
some,  well-dressed,  citified  people,  whose  origin  was  in 
no  case  better  and  often  not  so  good  as  her  own  — 
Father  McCullon  took  care  that  Patsy  knew  the  worst 
of  the  forebears  of  those  in  town  who  held  their  heads 
so  high  —  regarded  her  as  a  little  country  girl,  some 
thing  intangibly  different  and  inferior  to  themselves. 
When  they  stopped  at  the  farm,  as  they  so  often  did  in 
pleasant  weather  to  eat  strawberries  in  summer  and 
apples  in  the  fall,  to  drink  buttermilk  and  gather 
"  country  posies,"  as  they  called  them,  she  had  been 
vaguely  offended  by  their  ways. 

When  she  insisted  at  ten  upon  going  into  town  to 
school,  it  was  with  an  unconscious  resolve  to  find  out 
what  made  them  "  different  " —  what  secret  had  they 
for  making  her  father  and  mother  so  proud  of  their 
visits,  and  why  didn't  her  father  and  mother  drop  in 
as  they  did?  She  suggested  it  once  when  they  were 
in  town,  and  had  been  told,  "  No,  you  can't  do  that. 
We've  not  been  asked." 

;t  But  they  come  to  visit  you  without  being  asked." 

"  But  that's  different.  We  are  country  people. 
Visitors  are  always  welcome  in  the  country.  City 
people  don't  expect  you  to  come  without  invitation." 

This  offended  her.  She  would  find  out  about  it. 
But  it  continued  to  baffle  her. 

She  stood  high  in  school.  She  quickly  learned  how 
to  dress  and  do  her  hair  as  well  as  the  best  of  them. 
She  read  books,  she  shone  in  every  school  exhibition, 
but  she  continued  a  girl  from  the  country.  Evidently 


36  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

she  must  do  more  than  come  to  them;  she  must  bring 
them  something.  She'd  see  what  college  would  do. 

College  did  wonders  for  Patsy.  She  came  to  it  full 
of  health  and  zest,  excellently  prepared;  good,  oh  very 
good,  to  look  at;  sufficiently  supplied  with  money,  and, 
greatest  of  all,  determined  to  get  everything  going. 
"  Nothing  gets  away  from  Patsy  McCullon,"  the  en 
vious  sometimes  said.  It  didn't,  nothing  tried  to :  she 
was  too  useful,  too  agreeable,  too  resourceful.  It 
didn't  matter  whether  it  was  a  Greek  or  a  tennis  score, 
Patsy  went  after  it,  and  oftener  than  not  carried  it 
away.  Probably  if  there  had  been  annual  voting  for 
the  most  popular  girl  in  her  class,  there  would  never 
have  been  a  year  she  wouldn't  have  won.  She  had 
friends  galore.  All  her  short  vacations  she  went  on 
visits  —  the  homes  of  distinguished  people,  it  would 
have  been  noted,  if  anybody  had  been  keeping  tab  on 
her.  And  Sabinsport  always  knew  it. 

"  Miss  Patsy  McCullon,  the  daughter  of  Donald 
McCullon,  is  spending  her  Easter  holiday  in  New 
York,  with  the  daughter  of  Senator  Blank,"  the  Argus 
reported.  A  thing  like  that  didn't  get  by  the  exclusive 
of  Sabinsport.  There  weren't  many  of  them  who 
would  not  have  been  willing  to  have  given  fat  slices 
of  their  generous  incomes  for  introduction  into  that 
fashionable  household. 

And  when  college  was  done  with  and  High  Town 
was  prepared  to  welcome  Patsy  into  its  innermost, 
idlest  set,  she  had  taken  its  breath  away  and  distressed 
her  father  and  mother  by  asking  for  and  getting  a 
position  in  the  high  school. 

Her  reasons  for  this  surprising  action  were  many. 
She  could  not  and  would  not  ask  more  from  her  parents. 
They  had  been  generous,  too  generous,  and  she'd  taken 
freely.  It  wasn't  fair,  unless  she  went  back  to  the 
farm  and  she  wouldn't  do  that.  She  could  be  near 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  37 

them  if  not  with  them,  and  still  be  where  she  could 
conquer  High  Town. 

But  Patsy  soon  learned  —  indeed  she  was  pretty 
sure  of  it  before  she  put  her  ambition  to  test  —  that 
the  thing  she  had  set  out  to  win  so  long  ago  wasn't 
the  thing  she  wanted.  She  found  herself  free  to  come 
and  go  wherever  she  would  in  Sabinsport,  but  it  was 
no  longer  an  interest.  College  had  done  something  to 
Patsy  —  set  her  on  a  chase  after  what  she  called  the 
"  real."  She  didn't  know  what  it  was,  but  she  did 
know  it  was  something  to  be  worked  for  —  which  is 
perhaps  more  than  most  of  the  seekers  of  reality  ever 
discover. 

She  was  going  to  achieve  the  "  real  "  and  she  was 
never  going  to  be  a  snob.  She  wasn't  ever  going  to 
make  anybody  feel  as  those  people  in  Sabinsport,  with 
their  suburban,  metropolitan  airs,  had  made  her  feel. 
She  was  going  to  treat  everybody  fair,  for,  as  she 
sagely  told  herself,  "  You  can  never  tell  what  anybody 
may  do  —  look  at  me !  "  Which  of  course  proves 
that  Patsy  was  not  free  from  calculation.  Indeed, 
she  steered  her  course  solely  by  calculation,  but  it  was 
calculation  without  malice,  incapable  of  a  meanness, 
a  lie  or  a  real  unkindness. 

"  She's  out  after  what  she  wants,"  a  brother  of  one 
of  her  college  friends  had  said  once,  "  but  you  can  be 
darn  sure  she'll  never  double  cross  you  in  getting  it: 
she's  white  all  through."  She  was,  but  she  was  also 
hard;  a  kind,  clean,  just  sort  of  hardness  —  of  which 
she  was  entirely  unconscious. 

Patsy's  two  years  in  the  high  school  had  won  her  the 
town  solidly.  And  when  in  June,  1914,  she  went 
abroad  everybody  had  been  interested.  It  was  her 
first  trip  and  she  had  prepared  for  it  thoroughly,  draw 
ing  particularly  on  Dick's  stores  of  experience. 

Ralph,  who  was  feeling  very  wroth  at  her  that  spring 


38  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

because  of  her  indifference  to  his  reform  plans,  sniffed 
at  this.  "  I  don't  see  why  you  give  Patsy  so  much 
time  over  this  trip  of  hers.  It  will  only  make  her 
more  unendurable,  more  cocksure,  more  blind  to  things 
about  her.  I  like  a  woman  that  sees." 

"Sees  what?"  asked  Dick. 

'  The  condition  of  those  about  her  —  the  future. 
Patsy  McCullon  doesn't  know  there  is  a  suffering 
woman  or  child  in  Sabinsport.  She  has  never  crossed 
the  threshold  of  a  factory  or  entered  a  mine." 

"  She's  no  exception,"  said  Dick.  "  There  are  not 
a  half  dozen  of  the  women  in  Sabinsport,  even  those 
whose  entire  income  comes  from  factory  and  mine,  that 
know  anything  of  the  life  of  the  men  and  women  who 
do  the  work.  You  can't  blame  Patsy  for  what  is  true 
of  nearly  all  American  well-to-do  women.  Of  course 
it  is  shocking.  But  Patsy  at  least  has  the  excuse  that 
she  gets  no  dividends  from  these  institutions  and  so  has 
no  direct  responsibility." 

u  I'll  give  her  credit  for  knowing  what  she 
said  Ralph,  dryly. 

"  And  playing  a  clean  game,  Ralph." 

*  Yes,  I  suppose  so,  but  I  hate  a  calculating  woman." 

Dick  eyed  him  sharply.  He  had  a  suspicion  some 
times  that  Ralph's  irritation  over  Patsy  was  partly 
growing  fondness  and  partly  self-protection.  He 
feared  her  closing  in  on  him,  and  feared  he  would  be 
helpless  if  she  did. 

"  She'll  have  to  work  harder  than  she  ever  did  be 
fore,  but  if  I  don't  mistake,  she's  beginning.  I  don't 
believe  she  knows  it,  though,"  Dick  said  to  himself. 

Patsy  sailed  in  June.  He  and  Ralph  had  had  sev 
eral  joyous  notes  from  her,  and  the  day  after  the 
declaration  of  war  on  Serbia  a  long  letter  announcing 
a  sudden  change  of  the  itinerary  she  and  Dick  had  ar 
ranged  with  such  pains. 


wants," 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  39 

"  I  have  run  into  a  college  mate  here  who  with  her 
husband  and  brother  are  just  starting  for  a  leisurely 
motor  trip,  half  pleasure,  half  business.  Mr.  Laurence 
and  his  brother  have  connections  over  here,  and  it  is 
to  look  into  them  that  they  go  the  route  they  do.  Of 
course,  Dick,  it  shatters  all  those  wonderful  Baedeker 
constellations  we  worked  out  for  this  part  of  the 
world,  but  I  shall  see  the  true  French  country  and  the 
little  towns  and  I'll  learn  how  the  people  live  and  I'll 
have  no  end  of  knowledge  about  *  conditions  '  to  give 
Ralph  when  I  get  back." 

"  Much  she'll  see  there  if  she  can't  see  anything 
here,"  growled  Ralph.  "  Who  is  this  Laurence  any 
way?" 

"  We  leave  Paris  around  the  2Oth  for  Dijon.  Mr. 
Laurence's  firm  makes  all  sorts  of  things  for  farmers. 
They  have  offices  in  Paris  and  Brussels  and  Berlin  — 
all  the  big  cities,  and  agents  in  many  of  the  larger 
towns.  I  suppose  he  takes  these  trips  to  see  what  the 
country  people  need  and  how  well  the  agents  are  per 
suading  them  they  need  it.  Martha  says  it's  no  end  of 
fun  to  go  with  him.  We'll  spend  a  day  in  Dijon  — 
time  enough  to  see  the  old  houses  and  the  pastels  in 
the  museum.  We're  going  from  there  to  a  place  called 
Beaune  —  never  heard  of  it  before,  but  Henry  —  Mr. 
Laurence's  brother  —  he  knows  everything  about  this 
country  —  says  it  has  the  most  perfect  fifteenth  cen 
tury  hospital  in  Europe.  Then  along  the  Meuse  into 
Belgium.  We  ought  to  be  in  Brussels  by  the  first  of 
August." 

And  so  on  and  on  —  a  gurgling,  happy,  altogether 
care-free  letter,  calculated  above  all  to  make  a  young 
man  who  still  was  unconscious  that  he  was  in  danger, 


40  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

read  it  and  re-read  it  and  say  to  himself  that  a  girl 
who  could  write  like  that  at  twenty-four  must  be  a  very 
giddy  person,  and  then  to  wake  up  in  the  night  with 
an  entirely  irrelevant  thought  — "  She  didn't  say 
whether  Henry  is  married.  Confound  him." 

If  Patsy  had  calculated  her  effect  —  which  she  had 
not,  for  she  herself  was  unconscious  of  why  she  wrote 
these  bubbling  letters  so  unlike  her  usual  ones,  she 
could  not  have  done  better. 

"  I  wonder  where  Patsy  is  to-day,"  said  Dick  to 
himself.  "  I  hope  they  turned  back,"  but  he  said  noth 
ing  to  Ralph  of  his  disquiet.  It  took  that  young  man 
forty-eight  hours  longer  to  realize  that  Patsy  might  be 
caught  in  some  unpleasant  trap.  He  called  up  Dick. 
'  The  papers  say  there's  a  panic  among  our  tourists, 
Dick.  Do  you  suppose  that  hits  Patsy?  Don't  you 
think  we  better  drive  out  and  see  if  the  old  folks  have 
heard  from  her?  " 

It  was  Sunday  afternoon  of  August  2nd  that  they 
went  out.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  McCullon  were  quite  serene. 
"  Here's  a  letter  from  Patsy,"  they  said.  "  Last  we've 
heard."  It  was  from  Paris,  the  2Oth,  two  days  later 
than  theirs,  the  night  before  they  started.  "  She  ought 
to  be  in  Brussels  to-day.  They  say  they're  worried 
over  there  about  getting  home.  I  guess  Patsy  can  take 
care  of  herself  all  right.  Glad  she's  with  some  real 
live  American  business  men  —  these  Laurences  seem 
to  have  pretty  big  foreign  interests.  Patsy's  all  right 
with  them." 

"  Of  course  she  is,"  agreed  Ralph.  "  Besides,  Bel 
gium's  a  good  place  to  be  now.  Belgium  has  a  treaty 
with  all  her  neighbors  to  keep  off  her  soil.  France  and 
Germany  keep  a  strip  specially  for  fighting  purposes. 
Couldn't  be  a  better  place  for  Patsy."  And  Ralph  quite 
honestly  believed  it. 

But  it  was  a  different  thing  to  Dick.     He  was  op- 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  41 

pressed,  bewildered,  alarmed.  He  couldn't  have  told 
just  what  he  feared.  The  world  seemed  suddenly 
black  and  all  roads  closed.  But  at  least  he  would  keep 
his  depression  to  himself.  He  knew  how  entirely  un 
reasonable  it  would  seem  to  all  Sabinsport. 

It  was  the  invasion  of  Belgium  —  the  thing  that 
could  not  be,  the  resistance  of  the  Belgians,  the  attack 
upon  Liege,  the  realization  that  the  Germans  intended 
to  fight  their  way  to  Paris  —  that  they  must  pass 
through  Brussels  where  Patsy  was  supposed  to  be,  that 
gave  Sabinsport  its  first  sense  that  the  war  might  con 
cern  them.  The  anxiety  of  Farmer  and  Mrs.  Mc- 
Cullon,  which  grew  with  the  reading  of  the  papers, 
stirred  the  town  mightily.  The  poor  old  people,  so 
confident  at  first,  had  become  more  and  more  disturbed 
as  they  failed  by  cablegram  to  get  any  news.  They 
spent  part  of  every  day  in  town,  going  back  at  night, 
white  with  weariness  and  forebodings.  The  only  thing 
that  buoyed  them  up  was  the  series  of  postals  they  re 
ceived  in  these  early  August  days.  Patsy  had  been  at 
Dijon  and  eaten  of  its  wonderful  pastry.  She  had 
been  at  Beaune  and  seen  the  fireplace  big  enough  to 
roast  an  ox  in  —  they  were  starting  for  a  run  through 
the  fortified  towns  —  Belfort,  Verdun,  Metz,  Mau- 
beuge  —  and  then  to  Brussels  via  Dinant  and  Namur. 
Dreadful  days  of  silence  followed. 

It  was  not  until  the  I4th  of  August  that  Mr.  Mc- 
Cullon  received  word  that  Patsy  had  arrived  that  day 
in  Brussels,  was  well  and  was  posting  a  letter.  The 
next  morning  a  wire  from  Washington  said  that  the 
Embassy  reported  her  in  Brussels,  and  when  the  New 
York  papers  came  late  in  the  afternoon,  there  was  her 
name  in  the  State  Department's  list  of  "  Americans 
Found." 

It  was  wonderful  how  the  news  ran  up  and  down  the 
town.  Willie  Butler  rushed  into  the  house  crying  at 


42  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

the  full  of  his  lungs,  u  Miss  Patsy's  found.  Miss 
Patsy's  found."  Willie  had  been  a  year  in  the  high 
school,  and  his  admiration  for  his  teacher,  always  con 
siderable,  had  been  heated  white-hot  by  the  excitement 
of  her  adventures.  They  talked  about  it  in  the  barber 
shop  and  at  the  grocery  and  at  the  hardware  store 
where  Farmer  McCullon  traded  and  where  he  had  been 
seen  so  often  in  the  last  terrible  days,  seeking  from 
those  whom  long  acquaintance  had  made  familiar  the 
support  that  familiarity  and  friendliness  carry. 

It  was  a  topic  for  half  the  tea  tables  in  Sabinsport 
that  night,  and  many  people  whom  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
McCullon  scarcely  knew  called  them  up  to  tell  them 
how  glad  they  were  Patsy  was  safe  and  sometimes  to 
confide  their  dark  suspicion  that  the  reason  there  had 
been  no  news  of  her  was  that  she  was  a  prisoner  of 
war ! 

In  the  long  twelve  days  the  McCullons  and  Sabins 
port  waited  for  Patsy's  letter,  regular  cablegrams  noti 
fied  them  of  her  safety.  Then  the  letter  came.  Sim 
ple  as  it  was,  it  took  on  something  of  the  character  of 
a  historical  document  in  the  town.  It  made  the  things 
they  had  read  and  shivered  over  every  morning  actual 
and  in  a  vague  way  connected  them  with  the  events. 
There  was  no  little  pride,  too,  among  Patsy's  friends 
in  town  that  they  should  know  an  eye-witness  of  what 
they  had  begun  to  realize  was  the  beginning  of  no 
ordinary  war. 

Patsy's  letter  was  headed 

"  DINANT,  BELGIUM,  Friday,  July  31,  1918." 

"  Only  three  weeks  ago,"  Dick  said  to  himself,  shud 
dering,  when  the  letter  came  to  him,  "  and  what  is  go 
ing  on  in  Dinant  to-day?  "  for,  knowing  the  land  foot 
by  foot,  he  realized  how  inevitable  it  was  that  the 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  43 

town  must  be  engulfed  in  the  Namur-Charleroi  battle, 
the  result  of  which  in  the  light  of  the  three  weeks  since 
Patsy  had  written  her  heading,  he  had  no  doubt. 

"  My  dear  Folks :  —  It  is  just  ten  days  since  I  mailed 
you  a  letter.  That  was  in  Paris.  We  were  starting 
out.  It  was  all  so  gay  then.  The  world  has  changed. 
It  is  all  so  anxious  now.  It  is  not  for  any  tangible 
reason  —  nothing  I  could  tell  you.  I  suppose  what 
has  happened  to  me  is  that  I  have  caught  what  is  in  the 
air.  It  is  like  an  infection  —  this  stern,  tense  ex 
pectancy  that  pervades  France.  To-day  we  reached 
Dinant,  this  lovely  little  playboy  of  a  town,  its  feet  in 
the  Meuse,  its  head  wearing  an  old  old  citadel  on  a 
cliff  grown  up  with  trees  and  ferns.  You  would  love 
it  so,  Mother  McCullon.  And  here  it  is  the  same 
watchful,  dangerous  quiet.  There  have  been  rumors 
of  war  for  many  days,  you  know.  The  French  papers, 
which  I've  read  diligently,  were  full  of  forecastings 
and  queer  political  calculations  which  I  didn't  under 
stand  and  which  Mr.  Laurence  said  were  not  to  be 
taken  seriously.  It  didn't  seem  credible  to  me  that 
because  a  crazy  fellow  in  a  little  under-sized  country 
like  Serbia  had  killed  even  a  Grand  Duke  that  a  great 
country  like  Austria  should  declare  war  on  her,  par 
ticularly  when  she's  eaten  as  much  humble  pie  as 
Serbia  has.  And  even  if  she  did,  I  cannot  see  for  the 
life  of  me  what  Russia  has  to  do  with  it  or  why  France 
should  be  alarmed. 

"  I  only  know  that  it  seems  as  if  the  very  air  held 
its  breath,  as  if  every  living  thing  was  about  to  spring 
and  kill  —  I  can't  escape  it.  Perhaps  it  would  not 
have  caught  me  as  it  has  if  I  had  not  been  so  close  to 
the  frontier.  When  I  wrote  you  ten  days  ago  —  it 
seems  a  year  —  I  told  you  that  we  were  to  follow  the 
frontier  from  Belfort  through  Toul  and  Verdun  with 


44  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

a  side  trip  to  Metz,  then  on  to  Maubeuge  and  into 
Belgium.  The  men  have  a  passion  for  forts,  and  they 
were  obliged  to  go  to  Metz  for  business. 

"  On  the  evening  of  the  28th,  just  as  we  reached 
Verdun,  the  news  came  that  Austria  had  at  last  de 
clared  war.  We  got  into  town  all  right  and  they 
took  us  into  the  hotel,  but  I  thought  we'd  never  get 
out.  The  air  suddenly  seemed  to  rain  soldiers  — 
and  suspicion  —  the  street  swarmed  with  people  and 
nobody  talked  or  smiled. 

"  Verdun  is  so  lovely.  You  look  for  miles  over  the 
country  from  the  high  terraces  —  the  houses  are  so 
clean  and  trim.  They  look  so  stable  —  everything 
seems  so  settled  to  me  here  as  if  it  had  been  living  years 
upon  years  and  had  learned  how  to  be  happy  and  grow 
in  one  place.  I  wonder  if  that  is  the  difference  between 
the  American  and  French  towns.  These  places  look 
as  if  nothing  could  disturb  them.  I'm  sure  if  when 
I'm  old  and  gray  and  come  back  to  Verdun,  it  will  all 
be  the  same  and  I'll  sit  on  the  terrace  looking  out  on 
the  Meuse  and  drink  my  coffee  just  as  I  did  last  Thurs 
day  night !  —  Only  —  only  if  the  Germans  should  get 
near  here  —  they  can  throw  their  hideous  shells  so  far, 
the  men  say  —  I  could  fancy  them  popping  a  big  one 
down  right  into  the  middle  of  our  garden,  scattering 
us  right  and  left. 

u  Up  to  the  time  we  reached  Verdun  we  had  sailed 
through.  The  most  secret  places  were  opened  for  us. 
But  the  fact  that  Austria  had  declared  war  on  Serbia 
certainly  slowed  up  our  wheels.  It  looked  on  Wednes 
day  as  if  we  wouldn't  be  able  to  leave  Verdun. 
Henry's  friend  —  he  always  knows  a  man  everywhere 
—  wasn't  there  —  he'd  been  suddenly  called,  trans 
ferred.  Nobody  knew  us  and  everybody  suspected  us, 
but  Mr.  Laurence  was  determined  to  get  into  Belgium 
at  once.  We'd  be  free  there,  he  said,  and  could  play 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  45 

around  until  things  settled  down.  He  had  to  use  all 
his  influence  to  get  out.  It  was  only  when  he  enlisted 
our  officer  friends  at  Toul  by  telephone  that  he  was 
allowed  to  go.  We  had  just  such  a  time  at  Maubeuge 
yesterday  and  certainly  it  looked  like  war  there. 

"  They  were  beginning  to  cut  down  the  trees  —  to 
open  up  the  country  and  to  put  up  barbed-wire  fences 
—  to  hold  up  people  —  I  couldn't  help  wondering  if 
the  wire  came  from  Sabinsport.  I  never  heard  of 
such  a  thing.  Henry  says  that  his  officer  friend  told 
him  that  the  Germans  on  the  other  side  of  the  frontier 
began  clearing  out  trees  and  preparing  wire  entangle 
ments  five  days  ago  and  that  was  before  Austria  de 
clared  war.  What  does  it  mean? 

"  But  here  we  are  in  Belgium  —  nice,  neutral  Bel 
gium  ! 

"  Saturday,  Aug.   I. 

"  I  certainly  can't  make  head  or  tail  of  European 
politics.  We  run  as  fast  as  they  will  let  us  from  a 
country  that  hasn't  declared  war  and  that  nobody  has 
challenged,  as  I  can  see,  but  which  merely  thinks  it 
may  be  attacked,  to  get  into  a  country  that  everybody 
has  signed  a  compact  to  let  alone  and  live.  This 
morning  when  I  came  down  into  the  garden  of  this 
darling  hotel  to  drink  my  coffee,  I  hear  bells  and  com 
motion  and  I  am  told  an  order  has  come  to  mobilize. 
But  what  for?  When  Mr.  Laurence  and  Henry  came 
they  said  it  was  merely  to  protect  neutrality.  I  don't 
see  much  in  a  neutrality  that  calls  all  the  men  out.  It 
is  harsh  business  for  the  people.  I've  been  out  in  the 
streets  and  walking  in  the  country  for  hours  and  I'm 
broken-hearted.  It  seems  that  the  bell  the  police  go 
up  and  down  ringing  means  that  they  must  go  at  once. 
There  are  posters  all  over  the  walls  to  the  Armee  de 
Terre  and  Armee  de  mer,  telling  them  to  lose  no  time. 
Why,  this  morning  the  man  who  was  serving  us  left  in 


46  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

the  middle  of  our  meal,  just  saying  '  Pardon,  c'est  la 
mobilization,'  and  in  three  minutes  Madame  was  flut 
tering  around  apologizing  for  a  delay  and  telling  us  it 
wouldn't  happen  again,  that  she  would  serve  us.  Poor 
thing!  she'll  have  to,  for  every  man  about  her  place, 
her  only  son  included,  followed  that  horrid  bell. 
There's  many  a  woman  worse  off  than  our  landlady. 
There  are  the  farmers'  wives,  left  quite  alone  with 
cows,  pigs,  horses  and  the  crops  ready  to  harvest  — 
some  of  them  with  not  a  soul  to  help  them.  They 
never  complain,  only  say,  '  C'est  la  guerre,'  but  it  isn't 
la  guerre  —  at  least,  not  in  Belgium.  How  can  it  be, 
with  her  treaties ! 

"  DINANT,  Tuesday,  August  3. 

"  I  did  not  send  this  letter  as  I  expected  to.  Mr. 
Laurence  advised  us  to  mail  no  letters  until  after  the 
mobilization  is  well  under  way  —  says  the  tax  on  trans 
portation  is  so  heavy  that  the  mails  are  held  up.  There 
is  great  difficulty  even  in  getting  Brussels  by  telephone 
or  telegraph,  and  we've  had  no  papers  for  three  days. 

"  You  see,  I  am  still  at  Dinant,  though  we  will 
leave  in  a  few  hours  —  if  nothing  happens !  We 
were  held  by  an  incident  of  mobilization.  Sunday 
afternoon  while  we  were  in  a  shop  buying  some  fruit, 
a  man  came  in  hurriedly,  leading  a  little  boy  and  girl. 
He  wanted  the  woman  to  take  them  while  he  was  gone. 
Their  mother  was  dead,  he  said.  He  had  no  one. 
The  woman  cried.  She  couldn't,  she  said;  she  had 
her  own  —  her  husband  must  go.  She  must  keep  the 
shop.  How  could  she  do  it  —  how  could  she  —  and 
she  appealed  to  me.  The  poor  fellow  looked  so 
wretched  and  the  children  so  pretty  that  Henry,  who 
has  the  kindest  heart  in  the  world,  said,  *  See  here,  let 
me  have  the  kids.  I'll  find  somebody  to  keep  them.' 
1  But  I  have  no  money,'  the  man  said.  '  Well,  never 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  4? 

mind  —  I'll  see  to  that/  and,  would  you  believe  it? 
that  man  marched  off  leaving  Henry  Laurence  with 
two  solemn  little  Belgians.  Well,  we  had  to  stay  in 
Dinant  forty-eight  hours  longer  than  we'd  expected 
while  Henry  found  a  place  for  them.  We  had  such 
fun !  He  found  a  dear  old  lady  in  a  nice  little  house, 
and  everybody  said  she'd  be  kind  to  them,  and  Henry 
arranged  at  the  bank  for  weekly  payments  as  long  as 
the  father  has  to  be  away.  He  could  do  that  without 
trouble  because  his  firm  has  a  branch  in  Brussels,  and 
a  man  here  handles  their  goods.  We're  going  this 
evening  to  say  good-by  and  then  north  to  Namur,  which 
is  only  fifteen  miles  away.  We  follow  the  Meuse  — 
it  will  be  a  lovely  ride. 

"  NAMUR,  August  5. 

"  An  awful,  a  wicked  thing  has  happened.  I  can't 
believe  it  is  true.  Last  night  when  we  reached  our 
hotel  here,  the  first  thing  we  heard  was  that  Germany 
had  crossed  the  Belgian  frontier.  Mr.  Laurence  and 
Henry  grew  quite  angry  with  the  proprietor  —  whom 
they  know  very  well,  as  the  firm  has  offices  here  —  for 
repeating  such  a  rumor,  but  he  insisted  he  was  right. 
Germany  couldn't  do  such  a  thing,  Henry  insisted. 
The  man  only  shrugged  and  said  what  everybody  says 
here:  '  Guillaume  est  la  cause.'  ('  William  did  it.') 
You  hear  the  peasants  in  the  fields  say  the  same 
thing.  They  don't  say  the  kaiser,  or  the  emperor,  or 
William  II ;  just  William  —  as  one  might  speak  about 
a  rich  and  powerful  relative  that  he  didn't  like  or  ap 
prove  of  but  had  to  obey. 

"  Well,  it  is  true.  They  crossed  on  Tuesday  at  the 
very  time  we  were  having  such  fun  placing  our  two 
little  Dinantais  —  and  to-day,  oh,  Mother  dear,  I 
can't  write  it  —  they  have  attacked  Liege.  Nobody 
seems  to  know  just  what  has  happened.  Ft  is  sure  that 
the  Belgians  were  told  by  Germany  that  they  would 


48  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

not  be  disturbed.  Henry  came  in  this  afternoon  with 
a  copy  of  a  Brussels  paper  in  which  only  two  days  ago 
the  German  Minister  to  Brussels  said  in  an  interview 
that  Belgium  need  have  no  fear  from  Germany. 
4  Your  neighbor's  house  may  burn  but  yours  will  be 
safe  ' —  his  very  words.  Think  of  that !  —  and  at  the 
very  time  he  uttered  them  their  armies  were  there 
ready  to  cross.  The  King  must  be  a  perfect  brick. 
The  Germans  sent  him  a  message,  telling  him  what 
they  proposed  to  do.  He  called  the  parliament  in- 
stanter  and  read  them  the  document.  It  was  in  the 
Brussels  papers.  It  began  by  saying  that  the  French 
intended  to  march  down  the  Meuse  by  Givet  —  a  town 
on  the  border  only  a  little  distance  from  Dinant  — 
and  then  on  to  Namur  into  Germany ! 

'  There  never  was  such  a  lie.  Why,  we  have  just 
come  from  there.  There  wasn't  a  sign  of  such  a  thing. 
The  French  army  didn't  begin  to  mobilize  until  Sun 
day,  and  it  will  take  days  and  days,  and  here  Ger 
many  is  in  Belgium.  She  says  that  she  won't  hurt  the 
Belgians  if  they  will  let  her  march  through  so  as  to  at 
tack  France  —  and  she  gives  them  twelve  hours  to 
decide  —  think  of  that.  Doesn't  it  make  you  want  to 
fight  yourself?  The  cowards!  It  is  like  a  knife  in 
the  back.  But  I  am  proud  of  little  Belgium.  They 
say  the  king  and  parliament  sat  up  all  night  going  over 
things  and  in  the  morning  they  sent  back  word  '  No, 
the  Germans  could  not  pass  with  Belgium's  consent 
and  if  they  tried  to  she'd  fight,'  and  she's  doing  it! 

"  Everything  has  gone  to  pieces,  mail  —  news  — 
even  money.  The  men  can't  get  any,  and  we're  down 
to  about  five  francs  apiece.  You  ought  to  see  the  high 
and  mighty  Laurences  without  a  dollar  in  their  pockets 
—  I  wouldn't  have  missed  it  for  a  fortune.  They  are 
like  two  helpless  kids.  They've  always  had  it  and 
depended  on  it  to  get  them  everything  they  wanted  and 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  49 

to  make  everybody  else  do  everything  they  wanted 
done.  Now  they  can't  get  it  and  they  wouldn't  be 
more  helpless  if  their  legs  had  been  unhooked.  The 
trouble  is  we  can't  get  to  Brussels  without  money  — 
for  they've  taken  the  car!  Doesn't  it  sound  like  a 
comic  opera,  Mother  dear?  I  forgot  you  never  saw 
one,  but  it's  just  such  crazy  things  they  do.  We've 
credit,  at  least,  for  the  firm  has  an  agent  here  —  a  big 
one;  but  the  office  is  closed,  for  the  agent  and  book 
keepers  are  mobilized.  Suddenly  we,  Mr.  Laurence 
and  Henry  and  their  proud  corporation,  are  nobody. 
It  won't  last.  It's  inconvenient,  but  it's  good  for  them. 
They  somehow  were  so  sure  of  things  —  of  Germany, 
of  the  power  of  the  firm,  of  themselves  —  when  they 
had  their  pockets  full  and  now  —  why,  now  we're  beg 
gars  !  But  we're  American  beggars  and  I  tell  you  it 
does  brace  one  up  to  remember  that. 

"  NAMUR,  Friday,  August  7. 

'  We  are  still  here  at  Namur,  dearest  one,  and  when 
the  wind  is  right  we  can  hear  the  guns  firing.  It  is  the 
Germans  at  Liege.  So  far  the  Belgians  are  holding 
them.  Isn't  it  glorious?  The  people  are  crazy  with 
pride  and  joy.  Of  course  we  would  not  be  here  if  it 
were  not  for  the  trouble  about  money  and  the  delay 
in  getting  back  our  car.  Mr.  Laurence  would  not  have 
waited  for  that,  but  Martha  is  really  ill  and  he  was 
afraid  that  the  journey  to  Brussels  in  the  over-crowded 
trains  and  with  the  delays  and  discomforts  might  be 
serious  for  her.  We  couldn't  be  in  a  safer  place,  I 
suppose,  if  we  must  stand  a  siege.  The  people  say 
Namur  has  the  strongest  fortifications  in  Belgium. 
There  are  nine  great  forts  around  the  town  —  not 
close  —  three  or  four  miles  off.  There  is  a  wonder 
ful  old  fortification  on  the  hill  above  the  river,  and 
from  there  you  can  see  over  the  country  for  miles  — 


50  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

a  much  better  place  for  a  fort  it  seems  to  me  than  off 
out  in  the  country,  but  I  suppose  that's  my  ignorance. 

1  You  would  never  believe  the  place  was  preparing 
for  a  siege.  It  is  more  like  a  fete.  There  are  flags 
everywhere  —  the  French  and  English  with  the  Bel 
gian.  There  are  no  end  of  soldiers.  They  are  build 
ing  barricades  in  the  streets,  but  people  go  on  so  natu 
rally.  The  old  men  and  women  are  harvesting.  Here 
and  there  on  the  river  bank  you  see  a  fisherman  hold 
ing  his  pole  as  placidly  as  if  there  was  not  a  German 
in  a  thousand  miles.  The  fussy  little  steamers  and 
boats  with  lovely  red  square  sails  go  up  and  down 
the  rivers  just  as  usual.  And  yet  this  moment  if  I 
listen  I  can  hear  a  distant  roar  that  they  tell  me  is  the 
guns  at  Liege, 

"  Thursday  —  Later. 

"  We  are  going  in  the  morning  —  if  they  will  let  us. 
The  car  has  been  turned  back.  News  has  just  come 
that  yesterday  the  Germans  were  seen  in  Dinant  — 
looking  for  the  French  that  they  made  their  excuse  for 
invading  Belgium,  I  suppose.  It  has  frightened  Mr. 
Laurence  and  Henry  and  they  want  to  get  to  Brussels. 
The  news  from  Liege  is  very  queer.  We  can't  tell 
how  true  it  is,  but  the  attack  seems  to  be  heavier  and 
to-day  there  flew  over  this  town  a  great  German  air 
plane  !  spying  on  us,  of  course.  It  was  white,  with  a 
big  blue  spot  on  each  wing,  and  looked  for  all  the 
world  like  a  great  scarab,  and  such  a  racket  as  it  made ! 

"  I  watched  it  from  the  street  floating  over  the  town 
so  insolent  and  calm,  and  I  wanted  to  kill  it.  I  wasn't 
the  only  one.  I  saw  a  Belgian  workman  do  the  fun 
niest  thing.  He  shook  his  fist  at  it,  screaming  threats 
and  then  —  spit  at  it ! 

"  BRUSSELS,  August  10. 

"  We  are  here  at  last,  dearest,  and  they  tell  me  I 
can  get  off  a  letter  —  maybe.  We  were  all  day  yester- 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  51 

day  getting  here  —  about  sixty  miles  —  think  of  that 
for  a  car  of  the  Laurences.  It  is  all  funny  now,  but 
there  were  moments  when  it  was  anything  but  that. 
The  entire  Belgian  population  between  Namur  and 
Brussels  seems  to  be  on  guard.  They  are  spy  mad. 
We  were  not  out  of  sight  of  one  set  of  guards  before 
another  had  us.  We  had  all  sorts  of  passports,  but 
they  took  their  own  time  making  sure  and  sometimes  it 
was  long,  for  I  don't  believe  they  could  always  read. 
There  were  soldiers  and  civil  guards  all  holding  us  up, 
and  when  they  were  not  on  the  road  it  was  the  peas 
ants  themselves.  Why,  in  one  little  town  a  regiment 
of  armed  peasants  stopped  us.  Mr.  Laurence  said 
they  must  have  raided  the  firearms'  department  of  a 
historical  museum  to  get  the  weapons  they  carried; 
rusty  old  antiques  that  probably  wouldn't  work  if  they 
did  try  to  fire.  They  arrested  us  and  took  us  to  the 
Burgomaster,  and  it  took  two  hours  to  convince  him 
we  weren't  spies.  I'm  sure  he  couldn't  read  our  pass 
ports.  Finally  the  cure  came  in  and  he  understood  at 
once.  He  scolded  them  like  children  —  told  them  they 
would  offend  their  noble  English  ally  if  they  stopped 
Americans.  So  they  let  us  off  and  even  cheered  us  as 
we  went. 

'  We  reached  Brussels  finally  and  found  that  Mr. 
Laurence's  people  had  arranged  everything.  You 
feel  so  safe  here  as  if  you  could  breathe.  I  suppose 
it's  because  of  our  embassy  and  the  office,  though  the 
office  has  been  turned  into  a  hospital.  Hundreds  of 
wounded  are  coming  in.  The  Red  Cross  is  at  work 
raising  money,  and  somebody  jingles  a  cup  under  your 
nose  every  time  you  go  out.  The  town  is  full  of  boy 
scouts,  too  —  they  say  they've  taken  over  all  the  mes 
senger  service. 

"  Mr.  Laurence  had  just  come  in  and  says  letters  will 
go.  He  tells  me,  too,  that  you've  been  worried  — 


52  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

that  his  cablegram  from  Namur  didn't  get  through  — 
that  there  are  inquiries  here  at  the  embassy  for  me. 
He  says  you  think  I'm  lost.  Oh,  my  dear,  I  never 
thought  of  that.  But  you'll  surely  get  your  wire  from 
Washington  to-day,  he  says.  His  New  York  office 
will  wire  every  day.  I  couldn't  sleep  if  I  thought  of 
you  worried.  Will  see  you  are  regularly  posted.  Will 
leave  for  London  as  soon  as  Martha  is  stronger,  and 
I  will  sail  for  America  as  soon  as  I  can  get  a  ship. 

"  Your  loving  PATSY." 

It  was  on  August  22nd  that  the  McCullons  received 
this  letter.  That  afternoon  came  a  message  saying 
that  Patsy  had  reached  London.  It  was  many  days 
before  they  were  to  know  of  the  experiences  of  the  ten 
days  between  letter  and  message,  experiences  which 
were  to  kindle  in  the  girl  that  anger  and  that  pity  from 
which  her  first  great  passion  for  other  people  than  her 
own  was  to  spring. 

It  was  not  necessary  for  Sabinsport  to  receive  Patsy's 
letter  in  order  to  make  up  its  mind  about  the  invasion 
of  Belgium.  There  were  many  things  involved  in  the 
Great  War  that  Sabinsport  was  to  learn  only  after 
long  months  of  slow  and  cumbersome  meditation, 
months  upon  months  of  wearing,  puzzled  watching. 
They  were  things  hard  for  her  to  learn,  for  they  con 
tradicted  all  her  little  teaching  in  world  relations  and 
bade  her  enter  where  the  traditions  of  her  land  as  she 
had  learned  them  had  forbidden  her  to  go;  they  forced 
her,  a  landsman,  to  whom  the  seas  and  their  laws  and 
meanings  were  remote  and  unreal,  to  come  to  a  reali 
zation  of  what  the  seas  meant  to  her,  the  things  she 
made  and  the  children  she  bore;  they  forced  her  to 
understand  that  the  flag  and  laws  which  protected  her 
homes  must  protect  ships  on  the  water,  for  as  her  home 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  53 

was  her  castle  so  were  ships  the  sailor's  castle;  they 
forced  her  to  lay  aside  old  prejudices  against  England; 
they  forced  her  to  a  passion  of  pity  and  pride  and  pro 
tective  love  for  France;  they  forced  her  to  an  under 
standing  of  the  utter  contradiction  between  her  beliefs 
and  ideals  and  the  beliefs  and  ideals  of  the  Power  that 
had  brought  the  war  on  the  world.  Poor  little  Sabins- 
port !  Born  only  to  know  and  to  desire  her  own  corner 
of  the  earth,  wishing  only  that  her  people  should  be 
free  to  work  out  their  lives  in  peace  —  she  had  a  long 
road  to  travel  before  her  mind  could  grasp  the  mighty 
problems  the  Great  War  had  put  up  to  the  peoples  of 
the  earth,  before  her  heart  could  feel  as  her  own  the 
passions  and  aspirations  that  burned  and  drove  onward 
the  scores  of  big  and  little  peoples  that  fate  had 
brought  into  the  struggle. 

But  there  was  no  problem  in  Belgium's  case.  Ger 
many  had  sworn  to  respect  her  neutrality  and  she  had 
broken  her  oath.  She  had  followed  this  breach  of 
faith  with  unheard  of  violence,  destruction,  wanton 
ness,  pillage,  cruelty,  lust. 

This  was  true. 

Now  Sabinsport  was  simple-minded.  She  was  not 
very  good  —  that  is,  not  without  her  own  cynicism, 
hard-headedness,  hypocrisies.  She  didn't  pretend  to 
any  great  virtue,  but  she  would  not  stand  for  broken 
contracts.  "  You  couldn't  do  business  that  way,"  was 
the  common  feeling  in  Sabinsport.  She  was  harsh  with 
people  who  broke  bargains  and  saw  to  it  always  they 
were  punished.  If  the  sinner  was  able  by  influence  in 
bribery  or  cleverness  to  escape  the  law,  Sabinsport  pun 
ished  him  in  her  own  way.  She  never  forgot  and  she 
built  up  a  cloud  of  suspicion  about  the  man  so  that  he 
knew  she  had  not  forgotten.  Men  had  left  Sabinsport 
because  of  her  intangible,  persistent  disapproval  of 


54  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

violated  agreements,  repudiated  debts.  The  invasion 
of  Belgium,  then,  was  classed  in  the  town's  mind  with 
the  things  she  wouldn't  stand  for. 

Moreover,  the  deed  had  been  done  with  cruelty, 
and  Sabinsport  could  not  stand  for  that.  She  might  — 
and  did  —  overlook  a  great  deal  of  the  normal  cruelty 
of  daily  life  —  cruelties  of  neglect  and  snobbery  and 
bad  conditions,  but  the  out-and-out  thing  she  wouldn't 
stand.  A  boy  caught  tying  a  tin  can  to  a  dog's  tail  in 
Sabinsport  would  be  threatened  by  the  police,  held  up 
to  scorn  in  school  and  thrashed  at  home.  A  man  who 
beat  his  wife  or  child  went  to  jail,  and  one  of  Sabins- 
port's  reasons  for  mistrusting  the  motley  group  of  for 
eigners  in  its  mines  and  mills  was  the  stories  of  their 
harsh  treatment  of  their  women. 

The  steady  flow  of  news  of  repeated,  continued  vio 
lence  in  Belgium  stirred  Sabinsport  to  deeper  and 
deeper  indignation.  The  Sunday  before  Patsy's  letter 
arrived  a  group  of  leading  men  and  women  asked  Dick 
to  start  a  relief  fund;  the  Sunday  after,  almost  every 
body  doubled  his  subscription,  for  the  letter  clinched 
their  personal  judgment  of  the  case.  "  She's  been 
there;  she  says  it  as  we  thought." 

There  was  another  element  in  Belgium's  case  that 
took  a  mighty  grip  on  Sabinsport,  particularly  the  men 
and  boys.  It  was  the  little  nation's  courage.  Many 
a  man  came  to  Dick  with  a  subscription  because  it  was 
so  "  damned  plucky."  Belgium's  courage  had  no 
deeper  admirers  than  Mulligan  and  Cowder.  Jake 
swore  long  and  loud  and  gave  generously.  Cowder 
said  little,  but  the  largest  sum  the  fund  received  in 
these  first  days  was  slipped  into  Dick's  hand  by  Reuben 
Cowder  with  a  simple,  "  Got  guts  —  that  country  has." 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  there  were  no  dissent 
ing  voices,  no  doubts,  no  qualifications  in  the  matter 
on  which  the  town  formed  its  final  judgment  on  Bel- 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  55 

gium.  There  were  people  who  intimated  that  Ger 
many  simply  had  beaten  France  and  England  to  it. 
Sabinsport  knit  her  brow  and  pondered.  Possibly 
England  had  arranged  with  Belgium  to  let  her 
through  in  case  of  attack  —  possibly  France  would 
have  broken  her  word  in  case  of  need.  However 
that  might  be,  the  fact  was  that  it  was  Germany 
that  had  abused  her  oath  and  not  France  or  Eng 
land,  and  she  did  it  at  the  moment  when  neither  of  the 
others  was  thinking  of  such  a  maneuver  and  was  un 
prepared  for  it.  Belgium  might  be  surrounded  by 
rogue  nations,  but  still  there  is  a  choice  in  rogues. 
Only  one  so  far  had  proved  itself  a  rogue.  Sabinsport 
dismissed  the  doubt  from  her  mind.  The  facts  were 
against  it. 

There  were  people,  too,  a  few,  who  protested  against 
Belgium's  resistance  to  Germany.  Dick  was  not  sur 
prised  to  hear  that  a  certain  important  pillar  on  the 
financial  side  of  his  own  flock  had  decried  the  sacrifice 
as  u  impractical."  "  All  very  well  to  be  brave,"  he 
said,  "  but  one  should  distinguish  in  important  matters 
in  this  life  between  the  practical  and  impractical.  I 
call  this  foolish  resistance  —  couldn't  possibly  hold  that 
army,  and  if  they  had  let  it  pass  they  would  have  been 
paid  well.  Foolish  waste  of  life  and  property  I  call 
it."  But  the  gentleman  ceased  his  talk  after  listening 
a  few  times  to  the  strongly  expressed  contempt  of  those 
of  his  colleagues  who  did  not  fear  him  for  his  gospel 
of  honor  when  practical. 

Whatever  the  dissent,  the  protest,  the  argument, 
Dick  had  a  feeling  that  it  was  weighed  and  that  it 
tipped  the  scale  of  opinion  not  the  hundredth  part  of 
an  ounce  more  than  it  was  worth.  It  seemed  to  him 
sometimes  that  he  was  looking  at  a  mixture  of  chem 
icals  watching  for  a  crystallization  —  would  it  come 
true  to  the  laws  in  which  he  had  faith?  And  it  did; 


56  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

whatever  the  fact  and  fancy,  the  logic  and  nonsense, 
poured  into  Sabinsport's  head,  a  sound  sensible  view 
came  out.  His  satisfaction  in  the  popular  opinion  of 
the  town,  as  he  caught  it  in  his  running  up  and  down, 
was  the  deepest  of  his  troubled  days.  And  the  Rev 
erend  Richard  Ingraham's  days  were  full  of  trouble. 

There  was  Ralph  Gardner  —  his  dearest  friend. 
They  were  not  getting  on  at  all.  The  war  had  broken 
in  on  Ralph's  schemes  for  regenerating  Sabinsport  at 
a  moment  when  her  open  indifference  to  her  own  sal 
vation  was  making  him  furious  and  obstinate.  It  had 
cut  off  all  possible  chance  for  a  campaign.  It  filled 
the  air  with  new  sympathies  and  feelings.  It  thrust 
rudely  out  of  field  matters  to  which  men  had  been 
giving  their  lives.  It  demanded  attention  to  facts,  re 
lations,  situations,  ideas  that  until  now  were  unheard 
of.  Insist  as  Ralph  did  in  the  Argus  and  out  that  the 
war  was  the  affair  of  another  hemisphere,  it  continued 
to  force  his  hand,  challenge  his  attention,  change  the 
current  of  the  activities  which  he  held  so  dear.  As  the 
days  went  on  it  grew  in  importance,  engulfed  more  and 
more  people,  began  to  threaten  ominously  the  very 
existence  of  the  town  itself. 

Ralph  struggled  hopelessly  against  the  flood,  refusing 
to  accept  the  collected  opinion,  the  popular  conclusions. 
Particularly  did  he  refuse  to  join  the  condemnation  of 
Germany.  Let  us  understand  Germany,  was  his  con 
stant  plea.  He  was  seeking  to  bolster  the  long-held 
faith  that  in  the  social  developments  of  Germany  lay 
the  real  hope  of  civilization.  Their  relation  to  Ger 
man  Kultur,  he  did  not  even  dimly  see.  They  were 
Kultur  for  him  and  all  there  was  of  it.  Because  Ger 
many  had  worked  out  fine  and  practical  systems  of  so 
cial  insurance  and  industrial  safety,  and  housing  and 
employment,  he  could  not  believe  her  capable  of  other 
than  humane  and  fair  dealing  with  all  the  world.  He 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  57 

was  ready,  for  the  sake  of  this  faith,  to  explain  away 
a  great  and  growing  mass  of  facts  which  to  people  of  no 
such  intellectual  engagement  were  unanswerable.  He 
found  himself  more  and  more  at  disagreement  not  only 
with  Dick,  his  best  friend,  and  the  town,  but  with  cer 
tain  imperative,  inner  doubts  that  would  not  be  quiet, 
and  in  this  struggle  he  was  getting  little  help  from  Dick. 

The  war  had  quickly  opened  itself  to  Dick  as  some 
thing  prodigious,  murderous  —  all-inclusive.  He  saw 
the  earth  encircled  by  it  —  felt  the  inevitableness  finally 
of  the  entrance  of  the  United  States.  From  the  start 
it  had  been  clear  to  him,  as  it  could  not  have  been  to 
one  who  had  not  known  the  thought  and  passion  of  the 
German  ruling  class,  that  this  must  become  the  most 
desperate  struggle  the  earth  had  yet  seen  between  those 
who  felt  themselves  fit  and  appointed  to  plan  and  rule 
in  orderly  fashion  the  lives  of  men  and  the  blundering, 
groping  mass  fumbling  at  expression  but  forever  in 
domitable  in  its  determination  to  rule  itself. 

Dick  felt  that  he  must  get  into  it,  the  very  thick  of  it, 
nothing  but  the  limit  —  the  direct,  utter  giving  of  him 
self  —  his  body,  his  blood,  would  satisfy  the  passion 
that  seized  him.  He  would  go  to  Canada  and  enlist. 
And  with  the  determination  there  came  a  tormenting 
uncertainty.  Would  they  accept  him?  All  his  life  he 
had  lived  under  a  restraint  —  his  guardian  • —  physi 
cians  in  almost  every  great  center  of  the  world  had 
impressed  it  repeatedly  upon  him :  "  No  great  exer 
tion,  no  great  excitements.  Nothing  to  fear  with 
normal,  steady  living,  everything  from  strain." 

His  guardian  had  put  it  to  him  early:  "  This  is  a 
sporting  proposition,  Dick;  you  were  born  with  this 
physical  handicap.  You  can  live  a  long,  full,  useful 
life  without  danger  if  you  are  willing  to  live  within 
certain  physical  and  mental  limitations.  Moderation, 
calm  cheerfulness,  courage;  that  will  carry  you  through. 


58  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

It's  a  man's  code,  Dick.  Make  up  your  mind  now  and 
never  forget  the  limits." 

Dick  had  done  it  easily  —  at  the  start.  Restraint 
had  become  the  habit  of  his  life.  Only  now  and  then 
he  felt  a  pang.  Sports  of  the  severe  sort  were  closed 
to  him.  He  went  through  Europe  for  years  with  the 
imperative  call  of  the  snow  mountain  in  his  soul  and 
never  answered  it. 

And  now?  He  determined  before  the  close  of 
August  that,  come  what  would,  he  would  enlist.  He 
could  slip  past  some  way,  and  so  with  only  an  evasive 
explanation  to  Ralph  he  went  to  Montreal.  It  was  a 
ghastly  and  heart-breaking  experience.  He  tried  again 
and  again,  and  no  examiner  would  pass  him.  He  went 
to  the  greatest  of  Canadian  specialists  —  a  wise  and 
understanding  man.  "  Give  up  the  idea,  boy,"  he  said 
gently.  "  You  might  live  six  months.  The  chances 
are  you  would  not  one.  You  have  no  right  to  insist 
for  the  good  of  the  service.  And  let  me  tell  you  some 
thing.  You  are  not  the  only  man  to-day  who  feels  that 
to  be  denied  the  chance  to  fling  himself  into  this  mighty 
thing  is  the  greatest  calamity  life  could  offer.  We  men 
who  are  too  old  feel  it.  Many  a  man  with  burdens  of 
political,  social,  professional,  industrial  responsibility 
in  him  so  imperative  that  he  must  remain  here,  feels  it. 
You  are  one  of  a  great  host  to  whom  is  denied  the  very 
final  essence  of  human  experience,  giving  their  blood  — 
for  the  finest  vision  the  earth  has  yet  seen.  Don't  let 
it  down  you.  Go  home  to  the  States  and  help  them  to 
learn  what  this  thing  means.  They  can't  know.  It  is 
different  with  us.  Where  England  leads,  Canada  fol 
lows.  The  States  will  go  in  only  as  the  result  of  an 
inner  conviction  that  this  struggle  is  between  the  kind 
of  things  they  stand  for  and  the  kind  of  things  which 
led  them  to  their  original  break  with  England,  their 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  59 

original  vision  and  plan  of  government.  That  is  what 
it  is,  but  your  people  will  be  slow  to  see  it.  They  are 
not  attacked.  England  and  France  are.  It  is  not  fear 
of  attack  that  will  finally  take  you  in.  You  yourself 
have  said  that.  It  is  the  consciousness  that  the  right 
of  self-government  by  peoples  on  this  earth  is  threat 
ened.  Go  back  and  help  your  land  see  it." 

Dick  scarcely  heard  the  counsel.  He  was  conscious 
only  of  his  sentence  and  he  refused  to  accept  that.  He 
went  in  turn  to  the  leading  specialists  in  the  States,  men 
whom  he  had  consulted  in  the  past,  and  from  each  heard 
the  same  verdict.  He  knew  they  were  right.  That 
was  the  dreadful  truth.  He  knew  that  forcing  him 
self  into  service,  as  he  might  very  well  do  in  England 
under  the  circumstances  of  the  moment  there,  would 
mean  training  a  man  who  could  not  hold  out  instead  of 
one  who  could. 

Dick  went  back  to  Sabinsport  a  beaten,  miserable 
man.  Ralph  was  quick  to  sense  that  some  overwhelm 
ing  rebuff  had  come  to  Dick.  He  suspected  what  it 
was.  If  Dick  had  not  been  too  crushed  at  the  moment 
to  realize  that  his  dear  but  limited  and  obstinate  friend 
was  making  awkward  efforts  to  show  his  sympathy, 
it  is  quite  possible  that  they  might  have  come  together 
sufficiently  to  discuss  the  war  without  rancor.  But 
Dick  was  blind  to  everything  but  his  own  misery.  He 
failed  Ralph  utterly. 

He  said  to  himself  daily,  "  I  am  of  no  use  on  the 
earth ;  thirty-five  —  a  fortune  I  did  not  earn,  an  educa 
tion,  relations,  experiences  prepared  for  me;  a  pro 
fession  adopted  as  a  refuge  in  a  time  of  need;  a  citizen 
of  a  country  in  which  I  have  not  taken  root;  an  accident 
in  the  only  spot  on  earth  where  I've  ever  done  an 
honest  day's  work;  the  very  companions  of  my  student 
days  throwing  themselves  into  a  noble  struggle  in  which 


60  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

I  would  gladly  die  and  from  which  I'm  hopelessly  de 
barred.  A  useless  bit  of  drifting  wreckage,  why 
live?" 

It  was  the  victory  of  the  Marne  which,  coming  as  it 
did  at  the  moment  of  his  deepest  despair,  pulled  Dick 
back  into  something  like  normal  courage  and  cheer. 
The  probability  that  Paris  would  fall  into  German 
hands  had  filled  him  with  horror.  When  he  read  the 
first  headlines  of  the  turn  of  the  battle,  he  had  bowed 
his  head  and  sobbed  aloud,  "  Thank  God,  thank  God." 

All  over  the  land  that  September  morning  hundreds 
of  Americans  who  knew  and  loved  their  France  like 
Dick,  sobbed  broken  thanks  to  the  Almighty.  If  for 
the  millions  it  was  simply  an  amazing  turn  in  the  war, 
an  unexpected  proof  that  Germany  was  not  as  invulner 
able  as  she  had  made  them  believe,  for  these  hundreds 
it  was  a  relief  from  a  pain  that  had  become  intolerable. 

Dick  was  not  the  only  one  in  Sabinsport,  however, 
that  the  victory  of  the  Marne  stirred  to  the  depths. 
John  A.  Papalogos  hung  out  a  French  flag  over  his  fruit 
and  startled  the  children  by  giving  them  handfuls  of 
his  wares,  the  grown-ups  by  his  reckless  measures  and 
everybody  by  an  abandon  of  enthusiasm  which  not  a 
few  regarded  as  suspicious.  "  Must  have  been  drink 
ing,"  Mary  Sabins  told  Tom  when  he  came  home  for 
lunch. 

At  the  mines  the  effect  was  serious.  The  Slavs  fell 
on  the  Austrians  and  beat  them  unmercifully.  It  was 
the  only  way  they  knew  to  answer  the  arrogance  that 
the  German  advance  had  brought  out.  It  was  worth 
noting  that  in  the  general  melee  the  Italian  miners  sided 
with  the  Slays. 

The  barrier  between  Dick  and  Ralph  was  still  up 
when  Patsy  arrived.  They  all  knew  by  this  time  some 
thing  of  what  the  girl  had  seen  between  her  letter  of 
August  loth  mailed  in  Brussels  and  her  arrival  in 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  61 

London  the  twenty-first.  Held  by  the  unwillingness 
of  Mr.  Laurence  to  allow  his  wife  to  travel  until  she 
was  stronger  and  by  his  inability  to  believe  that  the 
invasion  of  Belgium  could  be  the  monstrous  thing  it 
proved  and  by  his  complacent  faith  that  nothing  any 
way  could  harm  an  American  business  man,  it  was  not 
until  the  I9th  he  obeyed  the  imperative  order  of  the 
embassy  to  go  while  he  could.  In  those  days  of  wait 
ing,  Patsy  had  come  into  daily  contact  with  the  hor 
rors  and  miseries  of  war.  She  had  seen  Brussels 
filling  up  with  wounded,  had  spent  lavishly  of  her 
strength  and  of  Laurence  money  in  helping  improvise 
hospitals  and  in  feeding,  nursing  and  comforting  refu 
gees.  She  had  lived  years  in  days. 

The  letters  they  had  received  before  she  arrived 
were  broken  cries  of  amazed  pity.  "  I  cannot  write 
of  what  I  see,"  she  had  said.  "  Refugees  fill  the 
streets,  coming  from  every  direction,  on  foot,  beside 
dog  carts,  on  farm  wagons  piled  high  with  all  sorts  of 
stuff.  They  are  all  so  white  and  tired  and  bewildered 
—  and  they  are  so  like  the  folks  around  home.  It's 
the  old  people  that  break  my  heart.  Somehow  it  seems 
more  terrible  for  them  than  even  the  children,  though 
they  take  it  so  quietly.  We  picked  up  an  old  woman 
of  eighty  to-day.  She  might  have  been  old  Mother 
Peters  out  at  Cowder's  Corners  —  never  before  in  a 
great  city  —  her  son  killed  at  Louvain  • —  her  daughter- 
in-law  lost  —  nobody  she  knew  —  no  money  —  a  poor, 
wandering,  helpless  old  soul.  Of  course  weVe  found 
her  a  place  and  left  money,  but  what  is  that?  —  she's 
alone  and  we're  going  and  there  are  so  many  of  them 
and  the  Germans  are  coming  —  what  will  they  all  do  — 
what  will  they  all  do?  "... 

On  August  1 8th  she  wrote: 

"  We're  going,  rushing  away  almost  as  the  poor 


62  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

souls  we've  been  helping  rushed  here.  We're  leaving 
them  —  I  feel  like  a  coward,  but  we're  only  in  the  way, 
after  all.  Nothing  you  can  do  counts." 

On  August  22nd  she  had  written  from  London  after 
a  flight  of  hardship  and  horrors: 

"  We're  here  at  last.  I  cannot  believe  that  there  is 
a  place  where  people  are  safe,  where  they  do  not  fly 
and  starve.  England  after  Belgium!  It  is  so  sweet, 
but  it  does  not  seem  right.  I  cannot  consent  to  be  calm 
when  just  over  there  those  dreadful  things  are  happen 
ing.  But  every  one  here  is  working  to  care  for  the 
refugees  that  are  coming  in  by  the  hundreds.  You 
must  not  be  surprised  if  I  come  home  with  an  armful 
of  Belgian  orphans." 

A  paragraph  in  a  last  letter  aroused  keen  interest  in 
Sabinsport  when  it  was  noised  around. 

"  At  one  of  the  stations  for  Belgian  refugees  I  found 
Nancy  Cowder.  It  was  she  who  recognized  me.  I 
was  giving  my  address,  promising  to  raise  money  in 
America,  when  a  girl  standing  near  said,  '  Did  you 
say  Sabinsport?  It  is  your  home?  You  are  return 
ing?  ' 

"  '  Yes,'  I  said. 

•  "  '  It  is  my  home,  too.  I  am  Nancy  Cowder.  Will 
you  tell  my  father  you  saw  me,  that  I  am  well,  and 
that  he  is  not  to  be  anxious?  ' 

"  I  was  never  so  surprised.  Why,  Mother,  she  looks 
the  very  great  lady.  I  know  all  of  that  hateful  gossip 
about  her  is  not  true.  It  can't  be.  I've  found  out  a 
lot  about  her  here." 

"  Trust  Patsy  for  that,"  growled  Ralph,  when  he 
and  Dick  read  the  letter. 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  63 

"  She  has  heaps  of  friends  and  is  staying  with  Lady 
Betty  Barstow.  She's  been  working  day  and  night 
since  the  war  began.  At  the  Embassy  an  attache  told 
me  she  was  about  the  most  level-headed  and  really  use 
ful  American  woman  he'd  seen  —  *  And  beautiful  and 
interesting  and  generous,1  he  added.  This  is  another 
case  where  Sabinsport  has  been  wrong." 

Dick  and  Ralph  were  curious  about  Patsy's  encoun 
ter,  for  they  long  ago  had  discovered  that  Nancy  Cow- 
der  was  one  of  Sabinsport's  standing  subjects  of  gossip, 
that  the  town  considered  her  highly  improper.  There 
seemed  to  be  two  reasons:  one  was  the  general  dis 
approval  of  anything  that  belonged  to  Reuben  Cowder, 
and  then  the  notion  that  "  a  girl  who  raised  dogs  and 
horses  and  took  them  east,  even  to  England,  could  not 
be  '  nice.'  " 

Dick  was  much  amused  when  he  learned  that  the 
Sabinsport  skeleton,  as  Ralph  had  always  called  Nancy 
Cowder,  was  visiting  the  Barstows.  "  She  must  be  all 
right,"  he  mused,  "  or  she  would  not  be  in  that  house." 
You  see,  Dick  had  known  Lady  Barstow's  brother  at 
Oxford  and  more  than  once  had  passed  a  week-end  with 
him  at  his  sister's  place. 

But  Nancy  Cowder  was  quickly  forgotten  in  Patsy's 
return.  She  came  a  new  Patsy,  thin  and  pale,  with  the 
energy  and  the  spirit  of  a  Crusader  in  her  blazing  eyes. 
Belgium  and  her  wrongs  had  been  burnt  into  Patsy's 
soul.  It  was  her  first  great  unselfish  passion.  It  had 
made  her  tender  beyond  belief  with  her  father  and 
mother.  The  two  restrained,  inexpressive  old  people 
were  almost  embarrassed  by  the  tears  and  the  kisses  she 
showered  on  them.  This  was  not  their  business-like, 
assertive  girl,  absorbed  in  her  own  plans  and  insisting 
on  her  own  ways.  It  was  a  girl  who  watched  them 
with  almost  annoying  persistence,  who  wanted  to  save 


64  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

them  steps,  guard  them  from  imaginary  danger,  give 
them  pleasures  they  had  never  even  coveted.  What 
they  did  not  realize  was  that,  as  Patsy  looked  into  their 
faces,  visions  of  distracted,  homeless  Belgian  women, 
of  broken,  wounded  Belgian  men,  floated  before  her 
eyes,  that  she  found  relief  in  doing  for  them  even  un 
necessary  services  since  she  could  do  nothing  for  those 
others. 

Patsy's  passion  made  her  hard  on  the  town.  She  de 
manded  that  it  champion  Belgium's  cause  as  she  had, 
with  all  its  soul  and  all  its  resources;  that  it  think  of 
nothing  else.  But  this  it  could  not  do.  Sabinsport, 
ignorant  and  distant  as  it  was,  had  developed  something 
of  a  perspective  and  was  sensing  daily  something  of  the 
complexity  of  the  elements  in  the  war.  It  could  not 
think  singly  of  Belgium. 

Ralph,  bitter  in  spirit  at  finding  Patsy  so  changed,  so 
absorbed  in  her  conception  of  her  own  and  her  friends' 
duty,  took  her  to  task  for  emotionalism.  He  forced 
arguments  on  her :  that  Germany  was  the  only  bulwark 
between  civilization  and  the  Russian  peril;  that  she  had 
been  hampered  by  an  envious  England;  that  if  Ger 
many  had  not  violated  Belgium,  France  would.  If 
Ralph  had  not  been  stung  to  jealousy  by  Patsy's  interest 
in  something  outside  himself  he  would  never  have  been 
as  stupid  and  as  unreasonable  as  he  proved.  He  knew 
he  was  wrong.  He  knew  that  he  admired  her  for  the 
unselfish  passion  she  showed.  He  knew  he  hurt  her, 
but  he  wanted  to  hurt  her! 

Patsy  —  bewildered,  shocked,  wounded  to  the  heart 
by  Ralph's  talk  —  promptly  forbade  him  ever  to  speak 
to  her  again  and  went  home  and  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life  cried  herself  to  sleep.  She  had  not  known  how 
completely  she  was  counting  on  Ralph's  sympathy. 
She  had  said  to  herself:  "  Now  I  know  something  of 
what  he  feels  about  people  who  suffer;  he'll  know  I 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  65 

understand;  we  can  work  together."  And  here  was 
her  dream  dissolved.  Patsy  was  learning  that  war  is 
not  the  only  destroyer  of  human  happiness  and  hopes. 
Ralph  charged  their  quarrel  to  the  war,  as  he  did 
everything  not  to  his  liking.  Every  day  he  pounded 
more  emphatically  on  the  wrong  of  all  wars  and  par 
ticularly  this  war.  Every  day  he  preached  neutrality, 
though  it  must  be  confessed  that  he  did  it  all  with  de 
creasing  faith.  It  was  a  hard  role.  He  was  a  man 
without  a  text  in  which  he  believed  to  the  full.  Then 
suddenly  in  October  he  found  what  he  was  searching. 
Reuben  Cowder  had  landed  a  munition  contract.  He 
was  to  convert  a  factory  made  idle  by  the  war  and  build 
largely.  Ralph  was  himself  again.  No  self-respect 
ing  community  should  permit  money  to  be  made  within 
its  limits  from  war  supplies.  It  was  blood  money. 


CHAPTER  III 

YOU  might  be  a  town  500  miles  from  the  Atlan 
tic  coast  and  3500  miles  from  the  fighting  line, 
but,  nevertheless,  you  would  have  felt,  in  October 
of  1914,  as  Sabinsport  did,  a  very  genuine  concern 
about  your  ability  to  get  through  the  winter  without 
hunger  and  cold.  The  jar  of  Germany's  first  blow  at 
Western  Europe  was  felt  in  Sabinsport  twenty-four 
hours  after  it  was  dealt.  When  the  stock  exchanges 
of  the  cities  closed,  credit  shut  up  in  every  town  of  the 
country.  The  first  instinctive  thought  of  every  man 
and  woman  who  had  debts  to  pay  or  projects  to  carry 
out  was,  "  Where  will  I  get  the  money?  "  The  instant 
thought  of  every  bank  was  to  protect  its  funds  —  no 
panic  —  no  run  —  but  caution.  Sabinsport  began  to 
"sit  tight"  in  money  matters  on  August  5th  —  and 
she  sat  tighter  every  day  —  and  with  reason.  Orders 
in  her  mills  and  factories  were  canceled.  Men  went 
on  half  time.  The  purchasing  power  of  the  majority 
fell  off.  Men  began  to  figure  the  chances  of  the  length 
of  the  war  in  order  to  decide  what  they  as  individuals 
could  do  until  they  would  be  able  again  to  get  orders 
and  so  have  work  to  offer;  when  they  would  be  able  to 
get  a  job  and  so  pay  the  grocer;  when  they  must  stop 
credit  to  the  retail  buyer  because  the  wholesaler  had  cut 
off  their  credit  —  these  were  the  thoughts  that  occupied 
the  mind  of  Sabinsport  much  more  generally  than  the 
European  war  and  its  causes.  There  was  a  strong  feel 
ing  that  it  would  be  a  short  war  —  another  1870  — 
take  Paris  and  the  business  would  be  over,  Sabinsport 
believed;  and,  though  there  was  real  satisfaction  over 
the  turning  back  of  the  Germans  at  the  Marne,  there 

66 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  67 

was  a  sigh,  for  they  knew  the  anxiety  they  felt  was  to 
continue  and  increase. 

"  You  see,"  Ralph  said  to  Dick,  "  they're  only  con 
cerned  about  themselves  and  what  the  war  will  do  to 
them." 

"  Don't  you  think  it's  a  matter  of  concern  to  Sabins- 
port  whether  the  mills  are  open  or  shut  this  winter, 
whether  we  have  half  or  full  time?  "  asked  Dick. 

"  It  isn't  the  working  man  they  think  of;  it's  them 
selves,"  Ralph  insisted. 

"  And  I  suppose  the  only  one  the  working  man  thinks 
of  is  himself.  We  must  each  figure  it  for  himself, 
Ralph,  or  become  public  charges.  It  strikes  me  this 
concern  is  quite  a  proper  matter  for  men  who  are  not 
as  lucky  as  you  and  I  are.  We  have  our  income;  no 
thanks,  however,  to  anything  either  of  us  ever  did. 
Our  fathers  were  men  of  thrift  and  foresight,  and  the 
war  will  hardly  disturb  us.  But  there  are  few  in  Sab- 
insport  like  us.  I  should  say  it  was  as  much  the  duty 
of  Sabinsport  business  men  to  concern  themselves  about 
orders  as  it  is  the  business  of  Paris  to  put  in  munitions. 
No  work  and  you'll  soon  have  no  town." 

"  It  is  a  rich  town,"  challenged  Ralph.  "  There's 
lot  of  money  here  —  they  could  keep  things  going  if 
they  would." 

"  Rich  when  there  are  orders  to  fill,  and  only  then. 
Don't  be  unreasonable.  You  know  this  town  lives  by 
work." 

"  Reuben  Cowder  and  Jake  Mulligan  have  $500,000 
a  year  income  if  they  have  a  cent;  do  you  suppose  they 
earn  it?  " 

"  Well,  they  won't  have  a  hundredth  part  of  that, 
Ralph,  if  the  mills  and  mines  are  closed  this  year.  You 
certainly  are  not  supposing  that  the  money  they  circu 
late  here  is  piled  up  in  a  chest  in  the  banks.  It  comes 
from  the  sale  of  coal  and  barbed  wire  and  iron  plates 


68  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

and  bars  and  hosiery  and  sewer  pipe,  and  stops  when 
they  are  no  longer  made.  Let  the  shut-down  continue, 
and  who  is  going  to  use  the  street  railways  and  the  elec 
tric  lights  that  Mulligan  and  Cowder  and  half  High 
Town  draw  dividends  from?  Who  is  going  to  sup 
port  the  shops,  buy  the  farmers'  produce?  Sabinsport 
is  rich  only  when  her  properties  are  active.  You  know 
that.  There  are  few  men  in  the  country  who  make 
every  dollar  work  all  the  time  as  Mulligan  and  Cowder 
do,  and  if  the  work  stops,  their  incomes  stop.  Their 
activity  is  the  biggest  factor  in  the  life  of  the  place,  and 
every  business  man  knows  it." 

But  Ralph  broke  in  with  a  bitter  harangue.  Sabins 
port,  he  declared,  thought  only  of  herself,  her  comfort, 
her  pleasures.  She  had  no  real  interest  in  human  bet 
terment,  no  concern  that  the  men  and  women  who  did 
the  work  of  her  industries  were  well  or  happy.  If  her 
business  men  worried  about  having  no  work  to  give  now 
it  was  simply  because,  as  Dick  himself  admitted,  that 
they  would  have  no  income  if  the  fires  were  out.  Did 
they  concern  themselves  about  the  worker  when  things 
were  going  well?  Not  for  a  moment.  Did  they  study 
a  proper  division  of  the  returns  of  labor?  Not  on 
your  life,  they  studied  how  to  get  the  lion's  share. 
Ralph's  ordinary  dissatisfaction  with  affairs  in  Sabins 
port  was  intensified  by  his  disgust  at  the  incredible  turn 
things  had  taken  in  his  world  and  by  his  helplessness  to 
change  them  or  to  escape  them.  He  might  rail  at  the 
war  in  the  Argus,  but  nobody  listened.  He  might  beg 
and  implore  that  they  put  their  house  in  order  instead 
of  keeping  their  eyes  turned  overseas,  but  it  was  so  use 
less  that  even  he  sensed  it  was  silly.  Sabinsport  was 
concerned  only  with  figuring  where  she  was  going  to  get 
bed  and  board  for  15,000  people  through  the  coming 
winter. 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  69 

The  first  relief  from  threatening  idleness  and  bank 
ruptcy  that  came  was  an  order  for  barbed  wire  for  Eng 
land.  Reuben  Cowder  had  gone  East  and  brought  it 
back.  It  looked  easy  enough  to  Ralph,  but  Cowder 
himself  had  put  in  two  as  hard  and  anxious  weeks  as 
he  had  ever  known,  landing  the  contract.  The  "  big 
ones  "  were  after  all  there  was  and  they  got  most  of  it. 
Moderate-sized,  independent  plants,  like  the  Sabins- 
port  wire  mill,  had  to  compete  with  companies  which  as 
yet  were  only  names  —  but  they  were  names  backed  by 
the  great  bankers  that  controlled  the  orders.  Com 
panies  long  ago  launched  by  financiers  for  making  rub 
ber  shoes  or  tin  cans  or  vacuum  cleaners  —  anything 
and  everything  except  what  was  needed  for  war  — 
landed  huge  contracts,  and  the  orders  waited  while  they 
converted  and  manned  the  plants  and  sold  at  high  prices 
stock  that  had  long  lain  untouched  in  the  tens  or  twen 
ties  or  thirties.  This  was  happening  when  men  like 
Cowder,  ready  at  once  to  go  to  work,  begged  and 
threatened  to  get  what  they  felt  was  their  share. 

The  news  that  the  wire  mill  would  open  at  once  on 
full  time  ran  up  and  down  the  street  on  quick  feet,  and 
such  rejoicing  as  it  brought!  Women  who  had  ceased 
to  go  to  the  butcher's  went  confidently  in.  "  Jim  goes 
to  work  to-morrow,  can  you  trust  me  for  a  boiling 
piece?"  and  the  butcher,  as  pleased  as  his  customer, 
said,  "  Sure,"  cut  it  with  a  whistle  and  threw  in  a  few 
ounces^  Over  on  the  South  Side  where  there  had  been 
grumblings  and  quarreling  for  nights,  there  was  singing 
and  laughing.  The  women  cleaned  houses  that,  in  their 
despair,  they'd  let  grow  sloven,  and  the  men  brought 
in  the  water  and  played  games  with  the  children.  Oh, 
the  promise  of  wire  to  make  stirred  all  Sabinsport  with 
hope.  Dick,  going  over  to  the  live  South  Side  Club, 
found  a  larger  group  than  usual  and  a  livelier  curiosity 


70  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

about  the  war.  They  could  think  of  it,  now  that  they 
were  not  forced  to  think  so  much  and  so  sullenly  of 
where  the  next  meal  was  coming  from. 

A  few  weeks  later  a  new  reason  for  hope  came  to 
Sabinsport.  Reuben  Cowder  had  landed  a  munition 
contract.  He  was  going  to  convert  the  linoleum  fac 
tory  "  around  the  point."  It  was  to  be  a  big  concern, 
give  work  to  a  thousand  girls  besides  the  men.  The 
wages  were  to  be  "  grand,"  the  girls  in  the  ten-cent 
store  heard,  and  more  than  one  of  them  on  six  dollars 
a  week  said,  "  Me  for  the  munitions  if  it's  more 
money." 

The  rumor  was  not  idle,  for  early  in  December  the 
building  began.  Sabinsport  would  not  go  hungry  in 
the  winter  of  1914-15.  The  war  that  had  raised  the 
specter  had  taken  it  away. 

"  And  because  the  war  has  made  us  easy  in  our 
pockets  again,  we  are  all  for  the  war,"  sneered  Ralph. 

"  Are  we?  "  said  Dick.  "  I  doubt  it.  So  far  as  I 
can  see,  we  are  puppets  of  the  war  as  is  all  the  rest  of 
the  world." 

1  We  could  refuse  to  make  its  infernal  food.  We 
could  hold  ourselves  above  its  blood  money.  Reuben 
Cowder  doesn't  care  how  he  makes  money  if  he  makes 
it." 

"  And  by  that  argument  the  men  and  women  in  the 
mills  and  to  be  in  the  new  mill  don't  care  as  long  as 
they  make  it,"  retorted  Ralph. 

'  We're  hardening  our  hearts," —  and  to  save  Sab- 
insport's  soul,  as  he  claimed,  Ralph  began  a  lively  cam 
paign  against  the  making  and  exporting  of  munitions  to 
other  nations.  It  was  a  new  idea  to  Sabinsport.  To 
make  what  the  world  would  buy,  of  the  quality  it  would 
take,  was  simply  common  sense  to  her  mind.  She  had 
nothing  in  her  code  of  industrial  ethics  which  put  a  lim 
itation  on  any  kind  of  manufacturing  except  beer  and 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  71 

whiskey.  Sabinsport  had  never  had  a  brewery  or  a 
distillery.  It  would  have  hurt  her  conscience  to  have 
had  one.  Indeed  the  only  time  she  had  ever  out  and 
out  fought  and  beaten  the  combination  of  Mulligan  and 
Cowder  was  when  they  attempted  to  establish  a  brew 
ery.  The  opposition  had  been  so  general  and  it  had 
been  of  such  a  kind  that  the  men  had  withdrawn.  "  It 
isn't  worth  fighting  to  a  finish,"  Cowder  had  told  Jake. 
"  We'll  have  bigger  game  one  of  these  days,  and  we 
don't  want  the  town  to  be  against  us." 

But  Sabinsport  had  seen  without  a  flicker  of  con 
science  the  cheapest  of  cheap  hose,  the  kind  that  ravels 
at  a  first  wearing,  turned  out  by  the  tens  of  thousands. 
Somebody  had  once  remarked  that  the  firm  must  use 
the  fact  that  its  hose  could  be  guaranteed  to  break  the 
first  time  worn,  with  buyers.  "  The  more  sold  the 
larger  the  commission,"  laughed  Sabinsport.  It  didn't 
hurt  her  conscience  that  there  was  truth  in  the  remark. 
It  didn't  disturb  her  conscience  now  as  a  town  that  the 
mills  were  turning  out  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  spools 
of  a  crueller  barbed  wire  than  they  had  ever  before 
seen.  It  didn't  disturb  it  that  around  the  point  a  great- 
scale  conversion  of  the  never-very-successful  linoleum 
factory  into  some  kind  of  a  shell  factory  was  going  on. 

But  if  not  conscience  stricken,  Sabinsport  was  inter 
ested  in  the  discussion.  It  stirred  deeper  than  Ralph 
in  his  disgust  with  the  situation  had  dreamed.  Let 
ters  to  his  Pro  Bono  Publico  column  flowed  in  daily. 
From  the  mill  came  a  violent  arraignment  of  capital  for 
making  the  war  in  order  to  make  munitions.  It  was 
from  the  leading  Socialist  of  the  labor  group,  an  excel 
lent  fellow  who  talked  well  but  difficult  to  argue  with, 
both  Ralph  and  Dick  had  found.  There  was  nothing 
to  argue  about  the  ruining  of  the  world,  in  John  Star- 
rett's  judgment.  His  system  would  remove  all  evils. 
His  task  was  the  simple  one  of  affirmation.  All  evils 


72  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

come  from  capitalism  —  do  away  with  capitalism,  in 
stitute  socialism,  and  the  machine  will  run  itself.  The 
Argus  was  right  in  disapproving  of  munition  making  by 
a  neutral  country,  said  John  Starrett,  but  so  long  as  the 
Argus  failed  to  see  that  it  was  the  iniquitous  system  it 
supported  which  was  to  blame,  etc.,  etc. 

The  one  always-to-be-counted-on  pulpit  radical  in  the 
town  seized  the  chance  for  opposition  and  preached 
eloquent  and  moving  sermons  on  the  horrors  of  wars, 
the  gist  of  which  he  weekly  sent,  neatly  typewritten,  to 
Ralph  for  the  P.  B.  P.,  as  it  was  called  in  the  office. 
His  argument  was  that  this  wicked  thing  could  not  go 
on  if  all  men  everywhere  would  refuse  to  work  on  guns 
and  shells  and  powder,  that  it  was  the  duty  of  a  great 
neutral  country  like  the  United  States  to  head  the  move 
ment,  and  why  should  not  Sabinsport  start  it?  She 
would  go  down  in  history  as  the  leader  in  the  most 
beneficent  reform  of  modern  times.  The  Rev.  Mr. 
Pepper  worked  himself  into  a  noble  enthusiasm  over 
this  idea,  and  spent  time  and  money  his  family  really 
needed  for  food  and  clothes  in  writing  and  mailing 
letters  to  a  long  list  of  well-known  radically  inclined 
men  and  women  in  various  parts  of  the  country,  begging 
them  to  join  the  Anti-Munition  Making  League. 
Ralph  published  the  digests  of  the  Pepper  sermons, 
printed  free  his  long  circulars  and  listened  to  his  argu 
ment,  and  Sabinsport  read  and  smiled  and  went  ahead 
with  her  work. 

The  two  or  three  pacifists  in  the  Woman's  Club 
seized  on  the  Reverend  Pepper's  idea  with  avidity.  It 
was  so  simple,  so  sure  —  stop  making  munitions  every 
where,  and  war  would  have  to  stop.  But  the  Woman's 
Club,  although  in  the  main  sympathetic,  handled  the 
matter  gingerly.  In  the  first  place,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pep 
per  had  always  been  "  visionary,"  so  the  men  said. 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  73 

Then,  too,  they  had  the  relief  work  of  the  town  to  con 
sider.  Stop  munition  making,  close  the  wire  mill^  and 
what  were  the  workmen  to  do?  It  wasn't  right. 
Somebody  would  make  munitions,  why  not  Sabinsport? 
Of  course,  if  the  League  did  succeed  and  other  towns 
went  in,  they  would  be  for  it ;  but  they  thought  they  bet 
ter  wait.  In  this  policy  of  caution,  it  is  useless  to  deny 
that  there  was  an  element  of  self-interest.  The  hus 
bands  of  not  a  few  of  the  ladies  had  stock  in  the  wire 
mill  and  in  the  works  "  around  the  Point." 

The  hottest  opposition  that  Ralph  met  in  his  anti- 
munition  campaign  was  from  the  War  Board,  as  he  and 
Dick  had  come  to  call  it.  This  War  Board  had 
evolved  from  a  group  which  for  years  had  met  regu 
larly  after  supper  in  the  men's  lounging  room  of  the 
Paradise  Hotel.  Both  Ralph  and  Dick  considered  it 
far  and  away  the  most  entertaining  center  of  public 
opinion  in  the  town,  for  it  offered  a  mixture  of  shrewd 
ness  and  misinformation,  of  sense  and  cynicism,  which 
were  as  illuminating  as  they  were  diverting — a  mix 
ture  which  spread,  diluted  and  disintegrated,  of  course, 
into  every  nook  and  cranny  of  the  town. 

The  War  Board  was  made  up  of  socially  inclined 
guests  and  a  group  of  citizens  whose  number  varied 
with  the  character,  the  importance  and  the  heat  of  pub 
lic  questions.  Dick,  who,  since  he  first  arrived  in  the 
town,  had  taken  his  dinners  at  the  Paradise,  found  that 
the  war  was  having  the  same  drawing  power  as  the 
choice  of  a  mayor,  a  governor,  or  a  president.  Almost 
every  night  more  or  less  men  dropped  in  to  discuss  the 
progress  of  the  campaigns  and  wrangle  over  the  prob 
lems  raised  for  this  country. 

A  member  of  the  War  Board  that  never  missed  an 
evening  was  Captain  William  Blackman,  as  he  ap 
peared  on  the  roster  of  Civil  War  veterans;  "Cap  " 


74  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

or  "  Captain  Billy  "  as  he  was  known  at  the  Paradise  — 
"  Captain  If  "  as  he  came  to  be  known  a  long  time  be 
fore  we  went  into  the  war. 

Captain  Billy  was  seventy-two  years  old.  He 
walked  with  a  limp,  the  result  of  a  wound  received  two 
days  before  the  evacuation  of  Petersburg  on  April  2, 
1865.  His  comfortable  income  was  derived  not  from 
a  pension  which  he  had  always  spurned  —  he  had  given 
his  services  —  but  from  a  wholesale  grocery  business 
established  in  Sabinsport  after  a  long  and  plucky  strug 
gle  and  on  which  he  still  kept  a  vigilant  eye.  Neither 
limp  nor  grocery  had  ever  taken  from  Captain  Billy's 
military  air  or  dimmed  his  interest  in  the  battles  of  the 
Potomac,  in  many  of  which  he  had  taken  part. 

Captain  Billy  frequented  the  Paradise  pretty  regu 
larly  at  election  time,  for  he  was  a  Republican  of  the 
adamantine  sort  and  felt  it  his  duty  to  use  every  chance 
to  impress  on  people  the  unfathomable  folly  of  allow 
ing  a  Democrat  to  hold  any  sort  of  office.  But  it  was 
when  there  was  a  war  anywhere  on  the  earth  that  Cap 
tain  Billy  never  missed  a  night.  He  never  had  any 
doubt  about  which  side  he  was  on,  about  the  character 
and  ability  of  generals  or  what  they  ought  to  do.  He 
never  for  an  instant  hesitated  over  Belgium's  case,  or 
doubted  the  guilt  of  Germany.  Much  as  he  hated 
England  —  Civil  War  experience  on  top  of  a  revolu 
tionary  inheritence  —  he  defended  loudly  her  going  in, 
thought  it  the  decentest  thing  in  her  history.  It  took 
Captain  Billy  at  least  three  months  to  grasp  the  idea 
that  we  should  have  taken  a  hand  at  the  start,  but  in 
this  he  was  in  no  way  behind  the  most  eminent  advo 
cates  of  that  theory.  Like  all  of  them  at  the  start  he 
accepted  with  sound  instinct  the  doctrine  of  neutrality. 
Before  Christmas,  however,  Captain  Billy  was  hard  at 
the  Administration.  "  If  we  had  done  our  duty  in  the 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  75 

beginning,"  was  his  regular  introduction  to  all  argu 
ments —  hence  the  name  which  was  soon  fixed  on  him 
of  "  Captain  If." 

Mr.  Jo  Commons  was  as  steady  an  attendant  of  the 
War  Board  as  Uncle  Billy,  and  in  every  way  his  antithe 
sis.  He  had  for  years  been  the  leading  cynic  and 
scoffer  of  Sabinsport.  You  could  depend  upon  him  to 
find  the  weak  spot  in  anybody's  argument,  the  hypoc 
risy  in  any  generous  action.  According  to  Mr.  Jo 
Commons  there  was  no  such  thing  as  sound  or  noble 
sentiment.  All  human  thought  and  feeling  he  held  to 
be  worm-eaten  by  self-interest,  and  he  spent  his  leisure, 
of  which  he  had  much,  for  he  was  a  bachelor  with  a 
law  practice  which  he  had  studiously  kept  on  a  leisure 
basis,  in  unearthing  reasons  for  mistrusting  the  under 
takings  of  his  fellowmen.  The  war  gave  him  a  won 
derful  chance.  His  was  the  first  voice  raised  in  Sabins 
port  in  defense  of  the  invasion  of  Belgium.  His  de 
fense  of  Germany  and  his  contempt  for  England  were 
Shavian  in  their  skill. 

If  Captain  Billy  contributed  certainty,  idealism  and 
emotion  to  the  Board,  an.d  Mr.  Jo  Commons  doubt, 
realism  and  cynicism,  a  traveling  salesman,  Brutus 
Knox  by  name,  kept  it  in  suspicion  and  gossip.  Brutus 
was  a  stout,  jolly,  clean-shaven,  immaculate  seller  of 
"  notions  and  machinery,"  and  under  this  elastic  head 
he  handled  a  motley  lot  of  stuff  in  a  district  where  the 
Paradise  was  the  most  comfortable  hotel;  and  it  was 
his  habit  to  "  make  it "  for  Sundays  if  possible. 

Brutus  was  a  master-hand  at  gossip.  He  liked  it 
all,  and  told  it  all  —  gay  and  sad,  true  and  false,  sa 
cred  and  obscene.  He  was  always  welcome  at  the 
Paradise,  but  never  more  so  than  since  the  war  began, 
for  he  brought  back  weekly  from  Pullman  smoking 
rooms,  hotel  lobbies  and  business  lunches  a  bag  of  "  in- 


76  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

side  information  "  which  kept  the  War  Board  sitting 
until  midnight  and  sent  it  home  swollen  with  import 
ance. 

The  War  Board  prided  itself  on  being  neutral  — 
this  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  nearly  every  one  that  at 
tended  had  the  most  definite  opinions  about  all  parties 
in  the  conflict  and  that  no  one  hesitated  to  express  them 
with  picturesque,  often  profane,  violence.  Almost  to 
a  man  the  War  Board  looked  on  the  invasion  of  Bel 
gium  as  rotten  business.  King  Albert  became  its  first 
hero.  His  picture  —  a  clear  and  beautiful  print  from 
an  illustrated  Sunday  supplement  —  was  pinned  up  the 
third  week  of  August.  It  came  down  only  once  —  to 
be  framed,  and  it  was  to  be  noted  that  on  all  holidays 
"  Albert,"  as  they  called  him,  always  had  a  wreath. 
The  general  verdict  was  that  he  was  "  American  " — 
"  looks  like  one  " — "  acts  like  one  " — "  been  over 
here " — "  no  effete  king  about  him."  After  the 
Marne,  Joffre  joined  Albert  on  the  lobby  wall,  and  the 
two  of  them  hung  there  alone  —  for  nearly  two  years. 

The  War  Board  treated  Ralph's  ideas  on  munition 
making  with  almost  unanimous  ridicule.  Indeed  the 
only  help  he  had  at  this  body  in  defending  his  position 
came  from  a  new  friend,  one  who  had  begun  occasion 
ally  to  attend  the  sessions  at  the  Paradise  just  after  the 
war  broke  out.  This  was  Otto  Littman,  the  only  son 
of  Rupert  Littman,  the  president  of  the  Farmers'  Bank, 
one  of  Sabinsport's  most  beloved  citizens.  Rupert 
Littman  had  been  only  ten  years  old  when  he  and  his 
father,  a  revolutionist  of  1848,  obliged  to  fly  for  his 
life,  had  settled  in  Sabinsport.  The  history  of  father 
and  son  was  as  familiar  from  that  day  to  this  as  that 
of  the  Sabins,  and  Cowders  and  Mulligans  and  McCul- 
lons.  Otto,  however,  was  not  so  well  known.  He 
had  been  much  away  —  four  years  in  college,  six  in 
Germany  studying  banking  and  business  methods,  only 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  77 

eighteen  months  at  home,  and  in  these  eighteen  months 
he  had  not  been  able  to  adjust  himself  to  the  town. 
The  town  felt  that  he  sneered  at  her  a  little,  which  was 
true,  felt  himself  "  above  her,"  which  was  true.  Ru 
pert  Littman,  dear  heart,  had  been  very  much  con 
cerned  that  Otto  did  not  "  take  "  to  Sabinsport,  and  he 
had  confided  to  Dick  once  that  he  feared  he  had  made 
a  mistake  in  sending  him  back  to  Germany  so  long. 

With  the  coming  of  the  war  Otto  had  begun  to  cir 
culate  more  freely  in  Sabinsport.  He  had  quite 
frankly  undertaken  to  make  the  town  "  understand 
Germany,"  as  he  called  it,  and  as  Ralph  had  shown 
from  the  start  his  belief  in  neutrality  and  now  his  hatred 
of  munition-making  and  exporting,  Otto  began  to  talk 
freely.  According  to  Otto,  it  was  England  that  had 
forced  the  war.  "  I  like  your  consistency,"  he  told 
Ralph.  "  It  is  the  only  attitude  for  Americans,  but  so 
few  are  intelligent  enough  to  understand  this  case. 
Pure  sentiment,  this  guff  about  Belgium.  It  is  sad  that 
people  should  get  hurt  in  war.  Read  what  the  em 
peror  says  of  his  own  grief  at  the  disaster  Belgium  has 
brought  on  herself.  Why  should  she  resist?  No  rea 
son  save  that  France  and  England  bribed  her  to  it. 
They  were  both  ready  to  attack  Germany  via  Belgium. 
I  know  that.  I  can  get  you  the  proofs.  What  could 
Germany  do  when  she  knew  that  and  knew  Belgium 
had  sold  herself?  Oh,  you  innocent  Americans  !  It  is 
always  a  little  hurt  or  hunger  that  sets  you  crusading. 
You  never  look  deeper.  I'm  glad  to  know  a  man  that 
has  more  sense." 

Otto  kept  Ralph  stirred  over  England's  seizures  and 
examination  of  our  ships  and  mail.  "  You  see,"  he 
said,  "  talk  about  freedom  of  the  seas  —  there  is  none. 
She  can  do  as  she  will  with  the  shipping  of  the  world. 
What  can  the  United  States  do  if  the  day  comes  that 
England  wants  to  drive  her  from  the  sea  as  she  has 


78  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

tried  to  drive  Germany  —  bottle  us  up.  I  tell  you, 
Gardner,  if  we  don't  join  Germany  in  her  fight  for 
liberty,  England  will  ruin  us.  England  is  the  enemy  of 
this  country  as  she  is  the  enemy  of  Germany.  She  can't 
tolerate  greatness.  She  fears  it.  She  has  expected  to 
keep  Germany  shut  in;  she  can't  tolerate  our  having  a 
single  colony.  It's  your  duty  to  America's  future  to  do 
your  utmost  to  explain  to  Sabinsport  what  England's 
inner  purpose  is. 

"  Take  what  is  happening  to-day.  She's  forcing  us 
to  unneutral  acts  by  her  arrogance.  She's  preventing 
us  from  carrying  out  our  right  to  sell  to  all  nations  — 
stopping  our  trade  —  destroying  our  goods.  She  has 
the  power,  and  that's  enough  for  her.  There  is  no 
way  to  meet  this  but  an  embargo  on  munitions.  If 
England  won't  let  us  sell  to  all  lands,  as  is  our  right, 
we  shouldn't  sell  to  anybody."  Ralph  was  entirely 
with  him.  That  course  would  put  an  end  to  Cowder's 
pollution  of  Sabinsport's  soul. 

Now,  Cowder  and  Mulligan  were  clever  men.  They 
knew,  as  Dick  had  frequently  warned  Ralph,  that  at 
taining  your  objective  depends  largely  on  your  skill  in 
maneuvering;  that  if  you  are  going  to  hold  your  main 
line,  you  must  sometimes  give  up  long  held  positions. 
They  had  spiked  small  guns  of  Ralph's  several  times 
in  the  course  of  their  fight  in  handling  the  mines  and 
factories  of  Sabinsport  by  withdrawals  from  the  points 
which  he  was  besieging.  There  was  accident  compen 
sation.  After  the  accident  at  the  "  Emma  "  they  had 
won  the  favor  of  labor  leaders  and  the  liberal-minded 
throughout  the  State  by  working  out  and  putting  into 
effect  a  compensation  plan  much  broader  than  any  re 
form  agency  had  yet  suggested.  It  was  a  shock  to 
Ralph  to  see  them  honored. 

Then  there  was  the  case  of  the  cooperative  stores. 
After  much  grumbling,  they  had  consented  to  let  Jack 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  79 

try  it  out  at  the  mines ;  and,  having  consented,  they  both 
had  stirred  themselves  to  make  it  a  success:  Mulligan 
particularly  had  spent  much  time  among  the  miners,  the 
men  who  had  grown  up  with  him,  and  who  at  the  start 
no  more  liked  the  change  than  he  did  —  explaining  why 
they  did  it,  how  it  was  to  be  done,  and  how  it  might  cut 
down  their  expenses  if  it  was  a  success. 

It  put  Ralph  into  a  corner.  You  couldn't  abuse  men 
for  doing  the  things  you  had  abused  them  for  not  doing. 
You  could  hint  that  they  were  u  insincere,"  but  that  was 
a  little  cheap  —  looked  like  sour  grapes.  It  held  up 
his  campaign,  which,  for  rapid  promotion,  had  to  have 
a  villain,  a  steady,  reliable  villain  that  couldn't  be  edu 
cated,  that  wouldn't  budge  from  his  exploitation  and 
greed.  To  have  the  villain  come  around  to  any  part  of 
your  program  was  as  bad  as  having  a  hero  with  feet  of 
clay. 

Cowder  and  Mulligan,  watching  the  progress  of  the 
anti-munition  campaign  in  the  factory,  decided  some 
thing  must  be  done.  "  I  say,"  Jake  told  his  friend, 
"  that  we  put  it  up  to  the  boys.  The  Argus  is  always 
howling  about  their  not  having  anything  to  say  about 
the  way  the  mills  are  run;  let's  give  'em  a  chance.  You 
know  out  at  the  mines  that  boy  of  mine  has  been  having 
what  he  calls  '  Mine  Meetings.'  He  built  a  little  club 
house  out  there  a  year  or  so  ago,  and  one  night  a  week 
he  goes  out,  and  everybody  that  works  in  the  mine  can 
come  in  and  they  discuss  things.  There  ain't  anything 
about  the  mine  that  Jack  don't  let  them  talk  about.  I 
thought  he  was  crazy  when  he  started  it,  but  ever  since 
the  accident  I've  kept  my  hands  off,  as  you  know.  The 
funny  part  is  that  it  seems  to  help  things,  and  Jack 
claims  he  gets  all  sorts  of  good  ideas.  He  says  he  is 
going  to  have  these  men  running  the  mines,  and  I  don't 
know  but  he  will.  I  don't  see  where  we  will  come  in, 
but  I  promised  to  give  him  a  free  hand.  I  don't  see, 


8o  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

Cowder,  why  we  shouldn't  try  something  like  that  now. 
Call  the  boys  in  the  wire  mill  together  some  noon.  Put 
it  up  to  'em.  Let  'em  vote  whether  they  want  to  make 
wire  or  not.  I'd  like  to  see  what  the  Argus  would  say 
if  we  tried  that." 

Reuben  shook  his  head.  "  I'll  think  about  it,  Jake, 
and  we'll  talk  it  over  again  to-morrow." 

There  were  few  people  in  Sabinsport  who  credited 
Reuben  Cowder  with  having  a  sense  of  humor,  but  deep 
down  in  his  stern,  suppressed  nature  there  was  consid 
erable,  and  it  came  to  the  top  now.  To  call  a  shop 
meeting  appealed  to  him  as  effective  repartee.  I  am 
quite  sure,  however,  that  if  he  had  not  been  convinced 
that  the  men  would  vote  to  go  on  with  the  work,  he 
would  not  have  risked  it.  What  he  did  want  to  do  was 
to  prove  to  Ralph  and  the  shop  agitators,  whoever  they 
might  be,  that  ninety-five  per  cent,  of  the  laboring  body 
in  the  wire  mill  would  not  strike  against  making  wire 
to  sell  to  the  Allies.  They  might  strike  for  other  rea 
sons,  but  not  for  that.  He  was  willing  to  try  them  out. 

And  so  it  happened,  one  morning  in  January,  that  the 
men  coming  to  work  found  in  conspicuous  places  around 
the  yards  and  through  the  mills,  a  notice  calling  for  a 
floor  meeting  at  one  o'clock  the  next  day  (you  will  note 
that  Cowder  and  Mulligan  were  not  taking  the  time  for 
the  gathering  out  of  the  men's  noon  hour) ,  to  discuss  a 
question  which  concerned  both  the  executive  and  labor 
ing  ends  of  the  mill,  preparatory  to  taking  a  vote. 

There  was  not  an  inkling  in  the  broadside  of  what 
the  question  to  be  discussed  was;  and  when  one  o'clock 
of  the  day  set  came  there  was  not  a  man  of  all  the  1800 
in  the  wire  mill  that  could  be  spared  from  his  post,  who 
did  not  appear  on  the  floor  of  the  main  building  of  the 
plant.  They  were  a  sight  for  sculptors  and  painters, 
gathered  there  around  the  great  machines  in  the  dusky 
fight  which  filled  the  immense  building  —  labor  in  all 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  81 

of  its  virile  strength,  men  from  a  dozen  nations,  in 
greasy,  daubed  garb  lifted  their  strong,  set  faces  to 
Jake  Mulligan,  who,  from  a  cage  dropped  to  a  proper 
level  by  a  great  crane,  addressed  them. 

He  put  it  direct.  "  Boys,"  he  said,  "  you  know  as 
well  as  I  do  that  there's  a  lot  of  talk  going  up  and  down 
this  mill  about  the  wickedness  of  making  things  for 
war.  Now,  I  never  did,  and  never  will,  ask  a  man  to 
do  a  thing  that  is  against  his  conscience;  and  Mr.  Cow- 
der  and  I  have  concluded  that  we  would  like  to  know 
whether  this  is  just  talk  or  whether  there  is  some  of  you 
fellows  that  really  are  doing  something  that  you  think 
is  wrong.  We  have  decided  to  take  a  vote  on  it,  to 
find  out  how  many  of  you  think  we  ought  to  give  up  this 
contract. 

"  Of  course  you  know  —  or  you  ought  to  know  — 
that  giving  it  up  means  shutting  down  the  mill.  There 
are  no  contracts  for  barbed  wire  to  be  had  at  present, 
except  for  war.  I  don't  say  that  we  will  shut  down 
even  if  you  vote  against  it,  but  what  we  will  do  is  to  give 
you  boys  a  chance  to  get  another  job  somewhere  else 
and  we  will  get  a  new  set  of  men.  Or,  if  the  most  of 
you  want  to  go  on  with  the  jobs  that  you  are  in,  and  a 
few  of  you  really  feel  hurt  about  this  thing,  we  will  do 
the  very  best  we  can  to  find  you  something  else  to  do. 
I  don't  say  we  will  give  you  as  good  wages  as  we  are 
giving  you  here.  You  know  there  is  nothing  else 
around  this  country  that  is  paying  like  this  mill,  can't 
afford  to. 

'  We  want  this  to  be  a  square  vote.  To-morrow 
night,  when  you  leave  the  plant,  the  same  time  you 
punch  the  time  clock,  you  are  to  put  a  ballot  in  a  box  at 
the  gate.  Nobody  will  know  how  you  vote.  The  only 
thing  we  want  is  that  everybody  votes.  It  seems  to  me 
that's  fair.  That's  all.  Now  you  may  go  back  to 
work." 


82  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

The  men,  taken  by  utter  surprise  by  the  proposition, 
separated  almost  in  silence.  The  crane  dropped  the 
cage  containing  Mulligan  and  Cowder  to  the  floor,  and 
the  two  walked  out,  saying,  "  Hello,  Bill!  "  "  Hello, 
John!  "  as  they  went  along,  as  naturally  as  if  nothing 
unusual  had  taken  place. 

There  was  a  great  buzz  in  Sabinsport  that  afternoon 
and  the  next  day  over  this  revolutionary  procedure. 
At  the  banks  and  in  the  offices,  Cowder  and  Mulligan 
were  roundly  condemned  —  not  that  there  was  much 
fear  of  how  the  men  would  vote.  Business  cynicism 
was  strong  in  those  circles.  They  felt  sure  that  the 
wireworkers  were  like  themselves,  not  going  to  give  up 
a  good  thing  for  what  they  called  an  impractical  ideal. 
What  they  did  object  to  was  the  precedent.  "  You  get 
this  started,"  they  told  the  pair,  "  and  what  does  it 
mean  for  all  of  us?  We  cannot  run  our  own  business 
any  longer.  Putting  things  up  to  day  laborers !  I  tell 
you  it's  a  dangerous  thing  you  have  started  in  Sabins 
port." 

The  maneuver  had  all  the  disquieting  effect  on  Ralph 
that  Cowder  and  Mulligan  had  anticipated.  He  felt 
very  doubtful  of  the  result,  but  he  spent  himself  in  an 
eloquent  harangue  to  vote  against  the  nefarious  busi 
ness  into  which  capitalism  had  thrust  them.  Among 
the  men  the  same  kind  of  mistrust  of  the  procedure  that 
prevailed  in  financial  and  managing  circles  cropped  out. 
The  procedure  was  too  new  for  them;  and  the  suspicion 
that  there  was  a  trick  somewhere  which  they  did  not 
see,  ran  up  and  down  the  shop.  "  Don't  give  up  the 
job.  They  are  trying  to  put  something  over  on  you." 
They  did  not  give  up  the  job.  When  the  votes  were 
counted,  it  was  found  that  exactly  ninety-eight  per 
cent,  were  in  favor  of  continuing  the  making  of  wire 
for  war  purposes. 

But,  even  if  the  management  had,  as  Jake  claimed, 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  83 

"  put  one  over  "  on  the  Argus  and  its  sympathizers,  it 
had  also  given  Ralph  a  text  — •  an  appealing  text,  too. 
"  How?  How?  "  said  Ralph,  "  could  you  expect  men 
whose  bread  and  butter  depend  on  day  labor  and  who 
are  told  that  the  only  labor  to  be  had  in  this  town 
where  they  live  and  have  their  families  is  making  muni 
tions  of  war,  to  give  it  up?  What  can  they  do?" 
And  Ralph  went  far  at  that  opportune  moment  to  argue 
with  his  Socialist  friend,  John  Starrett.  His  arguing 
was  not  heeded.  For  Sabinsport  the  matter  was  set 
tled —  ninety-eight  per  cent,  of  the  wire  workers  had 
decided  for  going  on  with  the  work.  Ralph  found 
himself  again  outwitted.  He  realized  that  he  must  get 
another  line  of  attack. 

Zest  and  a  bit  of  mystery  was  added  to  the  discussion 
in  the  spring  of  1915  by  an  incident  which  set  the  town 
to  gossiping,  but  of  which  few  ever  knew  all  the  facts 
—  Dick,  and  Ralph  through  him,  being  among  the  few. 
It  began  by  a  rumor  that  Reuben  Cowder  had  thrown 
a  man  out  of  his  office !  There  was  a  suspicion  that 
Otto  Littman  was  the  man,  but  that  few  believed  — 
"  It  couldn't  be !  "  Something  had  happened,  how 
ever,  and  Cowder  went  about  for  days  in  one  of  the 
black  moods  which  men  knew  only  too  well.  He  held 
a  long  conference  with  Rupert  Littman,  Otto  went  to 
New  York  for  a  time.  It  was  said  that  there  had  been 
trouble  over  a  munition  contract. 

One  evening  shortly  after  the  rumor  started,  Dick 
was  startled  by  a  call  from  Cowder,  the  first  he  had 
ever  received.  That  the  man  was  deeply  stirred  was 
clear. 

"  I've  got  to  talk  to  somebody,  Ingraham,  and  there's 
nobody  in  this  town  but  you  I'd  trust.  It's  against  my 
habit  to  talk,  you  know  that,  and  maybe  I'm  a  fool  to 
do  it;  but  there's  something  going  on  in  Sabinsport  I 
don't  like.  I  can't  get  my  fingers  on  it.  Maybe  I'm 


84  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

suspicious  —  maybe  I  ain't  fair.  Rupert  Littman  says 
I'm  not,  and  he's  an  honest  man  and  as  good  an  Ameri 
can  as  I  am.  I'm  not  neutral.  I  don't  pretend  to  be, 
though  I  don't  talk  much.  You  know  we've  begun  to 
run  around  the  Point.  Turned  out  our  first  shells  last 
week  —  good  clean  job.  Inspector  said  he'd  seen  none 
better. 

"  Well,  you  know  Otto  holds  quite  a  block  of  stock 
in  the  plant.  I  was  surprised  when  he  took  it,  but 
thought  it  was  a  good  idea,  and  his  father  was  tickled 
to  death  —  told  everybody  he  saw  how  Otto  was  going 
to  settle  down  here  now  —  had  found  out  where  his 
country  was  at  last.  Otto  always  seemed  to  take  a  lot 
of  interest  in  the  plant,  got  me  two  or  three  of  the  best 
workmen  I  ever  saw  and  a  wonder  for  the  laboratory. 
Of  course  he  knew  where  I  got  the  contract  —  England. 
Of  course  he  ought  to  have  known  I'd  see  the  whole 
damned  thing  in  the  river  before  I'd  sell  a  pound  to 
Germany.  He  knows  my  girl's  in  Serbia. 

'*  Well,  in  spite  of  that  he  came  into  my  office  the 
other  day  with  a  friend  of  his  —  never  been  here  be 
fore  —  and  wanted  to  make  a  contract  big  enough  to 
tie  up  that  plant  for  three  years  —  and  who  do  you  sup 
pose  they  said  it  was  for?  Sweden!  *  But,  suppose 
you  ain't  able  to  ship  to  Sweden?'  I  asked.  '  Never 
mind,'  they  said  — '  the  contract  holds  —  you're  sure  of 
the  money.' 

"  '  Otto,'  I  said,  '  you're  lying  —  your  friend  is  lying. 
You  can't  make  a  contract  with  me.' 

'  And  that's  what  you  call  being  neutral?  '  his  friend 
said,  with  a  look  I  didn't  like. 

1  I  never  said  I  was  neutral,'  I  said.  I  guess  I 
swore  some.  '  I  ain't  neutral.  I  want  to  see  the 
French  in  the  streets  of  Berlin  and  every  damned 
Hohenzollern  on  earth  earning  his  living  at  hard  labor, 
that's  how  neutral  I  am.' 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  85 

"  Well,  sir,  Otto  went  white  as  death  and  he  jumped 
at  me  as  if  he  was  going  to  hit  me  —  and,  well,  I  took 
him  by  the  collar  and  threw  him  out  and  his  friend 
after  him. 

"  Now,  one  of  the  reasons  I  am  telling  you  this  is  be 
cause  I  want  you  to  keep  your  eyes  open.  Otto  has  a 
lot  of  influence  over  that  young  fool  that  runs  the 
Argus.  I  must  say  I  like  that  boy  in  spite  of  his  fire- 
eating.  He'll  learn  and  he  can  write  —  but  he's  all 
muddled  on  the  war,  and  I  believe  it's  Otto  that's  keep 
ing  him  so  stirred  up  against  England  and  so  friendly 
to  Germany.  Why,  it's  vanity  and  ignorance  that  ails 
him,  and  he'll  see  it  one  of  these  days  all  of  a  sudden  — 
but  you  watch  him,  Mr.  Ingraham,  and  watch  Otto." 

The  man  stopped  and  sat  for  a  long  time  in  silence, 
his  head  dropped.  When  he  looked  up  his  mouth  was 
twitching.  "  Otto  Littman  is  the  son  of  one  of  the 
best  men  that  ever  lived.  He's  a  friend  of  my  girl. 
The  only  boy  here  she  ever  let  go  out  to  see  her.  She 
has  seen  him  in  Europe.  I  guess  they  write  sometimes. 
And  I  have  quarreled  with  him.  I  have  warned  his 
own  father  against  him.  It  is  an  awful  thing  to  do, 
but,  so  help  me,  God,  I  can't  do  anything  else.  My 
girl's  over  there,  Ingraham;  I  don't  know  as  I'll  ever 
see  her  again.  Maybe  you  don't  know  about  her. 
Maybe  you've  heard  people  here  sneer  at  her — call 
her  horsey  and  fast,  but  I  tell  you  if  there's  a  thorough 
bred  on  earth  it's  Nancy.  She  was  born  out  there  at 
the  farm,  and  her  mother  died  when  she  came."  The 
hard  face  worked  convulsively  and  the  hands  gripped 
the  arms  of  his  chair  until  the  brown  skin  showed  white 
over  the  knuckles. 

"  She  grew  up  out  there.  I  had  as  fine  a  woman  as 
I  could  find  —  educated  —  horse  sense  —  to  look  after 
her,  but  we  never  could  do  much  with  Nancy.  She 
wouldn't  go  to  school  but  she'd  read  more  books  than 


86  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

all  the  girls  in  Sabinsport  before  she  was  sixteen  and 
spoke  French  and  German  like  a  native.  She  hated 
the  town  and  she  loved  dogs  and  horses,  and,  by 
George,  how  she  understood  'em.  I  never  saw  any 
thing  like  it.  Of  course,  I  let  her  have  all  she  wanted, 
and  before  I  knew  what  I  was  getting  into  she  was 
breeding  'em  —  had  a  stable,  kennels,  began  to  go  East 
to  horse  shows,  dog  shows;  go  anywhere  she  heard  of 
a  good  animal.  Regular  passion  —  didn't  think  of 
anything  else.  Funny  to  see  her  —  so  slight  and  fine 
and  free-moving,  talking  to  jockeys  and  breeders  and 
bookmen  —  never  seeing  them  —  only  the  horses. 
'Twan't  long  before  horsemen  began  to  listen  to  her, 
and  she  began  to  enter  her  own  and  then  I  lost  her 
from  here.  Mrs.  Peters  is  always  with  her,  but  Nancy 
is  all  right.  Just  naturally  don't  know  anything  but 
the  best  men  or  horses.  Has  an  instinct  for  points. 
She  is  always  saying  she'll  come  back  some  day  and 
stay.  I  wanted  to  build  in  town  for  her  but  she  won't 
have  it.  Farm's  home  to  her.  But  I  don't  expect 
ever  to  see  her  again,  Ingraham. 

u  It  was  like  her  to  throw  herself  in  this  thing. 
Never  could  stand  it  to  see  anything  suffer  —  hated 
anything  she  thought  was  unjust. 

"  I  tell  you  she  rules  me.  Remember  once  you  com 
plimented  me  for  leaving  the  old  Paradise  just  as  it 
came  down  to  the  town,  building  in  the  big  addition  as 
a  kind  of  background,  to  set  off  the  original?  That 
was  Nancy  —  would  have  it  so  —  sent  an  architect 
here  that  she  had  coached  herself.  And  you  remem 
ber  four  years  ago  when  I  turned  front  on  compensa 
tion  —  time  of  the  big  accident  in  the  *  Emma  '  ?  Well, 
that  was  Nancy  —  got  my  orders  from  her.  Queer 
thing  how  she  keeps  track  of  things  here  —  reads  the 
Argus  every  day,  no  matter  where  she  is.  She  was  all 
crumpled  up  over  the  *  Emma,'  naturally  enough  — 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  87 

and  when  the  Argus  began  on  compensation  she  wrote 
me  a  better  argument  than  ever  Gardner  put  up  and 
told  me  she'd  never  take  another  dollar  from  me  if  I 
didn't  support  it.  What  could  I  do?  I  knew  she 
meant  it. 

"  She  was  visiting  in  London  when  the  war  came. 
Patsy  McCullon  saw  her  there  —  like  her  to  go  to 
Serbia.  She  said  the  Belgians  were  near  and  bound 
to  get  help,  but  everybody  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
Serbia.  She  went  in  October.  I've  had  only  a  few 
letters  —  all  cheerful  —  wouldn't  do  anything  else  — 
she's  putting  in  all  her  income  and  it's  a  pretty  good 
one.  Nancy's  rich  as  a  girl  ought  to  be,  from  her 
granddad  and  mother.  I  don't  believe  she'll  ever 
come  out.  They're  bound  to  run  over  the  country. 
Nancy  will  stick  till  she  drops.  God,  Ingraham,  it's 
hard  to  lose  her. 

"  It's  her  being  there  makes  me  suspicious,  maybe  — 
Littman  says  so  —  laughed  at  the  idea  that  Otto  was 
working  for  anybody  but  America.  But  I  don't  know, 
Ingraham  —  I  don't  know.  I  ought  not  to  have 
thrown  him  out,  maybe,  but  I  didn't  like  it.  Sweden ! 
That  means  Germany,  and  Otto  Littman  knows  it,  or 
—  it  means  tying  up  the  plant  if  they  can't  ship. 

"  Another  thing  I'm  telling  you  this  for  —  it  ain't 
natural  the  feeling  in  the  town  against  selling  munitions 
to  the  Allies  should  be  so  strong  as  it  is.  It  would 
have  died  out  long  ago  if  somebody  from  outside  wasn't 
stirring  it  up.  There  are  more  pacifists  around  town 
than  is  normal,  more  in  the  factory  and  even  in  the  wire 
plant.  Don't  seem  to  go  deep  enough  to  make  'em 
give  up  their  jobs  —  just  talk,  and  there  must  be  some 
body  behind  it.  I'm  making  allowance  for  those  that's 
honestly  against  it,  those  that  think  not  believing  in 
war  will  make  a  difference.  Couldn't  stop  an  earth 
quake  that  way,  and  that's  what  this  war  is,  Ingraham 


88  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

—  earthquake  —  convulsion.     Guess  men  have  'em  — 
burst  their  bonds  like  the  earth  its  crust.     Guess  we 
won't  end  them  until  we  put  more  give  into  the  bonds 

—  make  'em  more  elastic.     That's  the  way  I  see  it. 
Hope  you  won't  mind  my  disturbing  you.     Had  to  get 
it  off  my  mind." 

Dick  had  listened  in  amazed  silence  through  the  talk. 
He  reached  out  his  hand,  deeply  moved.  "  Disturb 
me,  Mr.  Cowder?  I  think  your  confidence  an  honor, 
and  I  don't  think  your  suspicion  idle.  On  the  con 
trary,  I  agree  with  you  that  the  feeling  against  muni 
tion  making  here  isn't  normal,  but  I  take  it  that  we 
must  expect  propaganda.  I  don't  like  the  secrecy  of 
it,  if  it  is  propaganda.  As  for  Littman,  I  often  talk 
with  him.  He's  quite  openly  for  Germany.  He  has 
lived  there  as  a  student,  you  know.  He  has  caught  the 
faith  that  consumes  Germany  and  is  driving  her  now  — 
her  faith  that  her  destiny  is  to  rule  the  earth  by  virtue 
of  her  superior  ability,  knowledge,  strength.  It's  not 
easy  for  young  men  of  Otto's  type  to  resist.  Whether 
he  is  being  used  as  a  tool  consciously  or  unconsciously, 
I  cannot  say.  It  would  be  quite  in  keeping  with  Ger 
many's  practice  to  stir  up  trouble  here  with  England  if 
she  could.  She  naturally  wants  to  take  our  minds  off 
Belgium  —  to  build  back  fires.  I  am  not  sure  but  the 
feeling  growing  in  the  country  against  Mexico  —  the 
fear  of  Japan  —  is  largely  German  propaganda. 
And  Otto  may  be  helping  it  on,  not  out  of  disloyalty  to 
the  United  States  but  because  his  German  advisers  — 
if  he  has  them  —  have  made  him  believe  that  the  coun 
try  is  threatened  in  these  directions.  It  was  Otto,  you 
remember,  who  brought  that  lecturer  here  a  few  weeks 
ago  to  warn  us  about  a  Mexican-Japanese  alliance.  It 
might  have  happened  naturally  enough,  to  be  sure. 
But  if  pro-German  citizens  are  introducing  such  lectur 
ers  into  quiet  towns  like  ours,  all  over  the  land,  I  should 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  89 

feel  it  was  distinctly  a  disloyal  act.  I  don't  know  that 
they  are,  though  it's  sure  the  lecture  we  heard  and  the 
maps  we  saw  had  been  used  before  —  frequently  I 
should  say." 

"  I  don't  think  it  worried  anybody,"  said  Cowder, 
dryly. 

"  I  rather  think  it  would  be  difficult  to  make  Sabins- 
port  nervous  over  a  Mexican-Japanese  attack,"  laughed 
Dick.  "  It  was  evident  the  audience  regarded  it  as  a 
fairy  tale." 

"  It's  nothing  else  as  far  as  I  can  see." 

"  There  you  are,"  said  Dick.  "  I  think  we  can  af 
ford  to  wait  awhile.  After  all,  Otto  and  his  friend 
would  not  be  guilty  of  treason  in  making  a  contract 
with  you  for  munitions  for  Germany.  You  have  the 
same  right  to  sell  to  her  as  to  England.  I'm  glad  you 
won't  do  it  —  but  you  would  be  breaking  no  law — 
you  would  be  strictly  within  neutral  rights." 

Cowder  glowered  at  him.  "  I'm  no  damned  re 
former,"  he  said,  "  but  I  never  yet  helped  a  burglar  to 
tools  or  a  murderer  to  a  gun." 

"  Good,"  said  Dick,  "  and  believe  me,  I'll  keep  an 
eye  on  Otto  for  you.  He  may  be  helping  Germany 
now,  but  I  shall  be  very  much  surprised  if  the  time 
comes  when  we  go  into  the  war  if  he  doesn't  fall  in  line 
—  unless  he  goes  too  far  now." 

*  You  believe  we  will  go  in?  " 

"  Surely  —  some  day." 

1  You  don't  believe  the  time  has  come?  " 

"  No  —  no.     I  can't  say  I  do." 

Cowder  sighed.     "  I  don't  know  what  to  think,  In- 

fraham.     I  wish  to  God  I  could  make  up  my  mind, 
'd  feel  easier  if  we  were  in,  but  I  don't  see  any  use 
dragging  in  a  country  that  don't  see  it.     Why,  Sabins- 
port  is  living  on  the  war  and  don't  know  it.     Don't 
see  that  you  can't  live  in  this  country  to-day  except  on 


90  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

the  war.  But  she  does  take  an  interest.  Ever  notice 
that  South  Side  Alley  over  next  the  wire  mill,  where  the 
kids  play.  Got  trenches  there  that  wouldn't  be  bad  in 
Flanders.  Wonderful  how  things  spread  in  the  world. 
Good  night,  Ingraham,  and  thank  you." 

Long  after  the  man  was  gone  Dick  sat  watching  his 
fire.  What  a  grief  the  man  carried!  To  have  a 
daughter  like  that  and  in  Serbia;  to  believe  he  would 
never  see  her  and  yet  to  go  on  day  in  and  day  out  — 
"Nancy  Cowder" — nice  name  and  she  knew  Lady 
Betty.  Serbia !  What  was  the  latest  news  from 
Serbia?  —  he'd  seen  something  in  the  London  Times 
lately  about  the  English  nurses  there.  He'd  look  it 
up.  What  part  of  Serbia?  He  hadn't  asked.  He 
would  —  maybe  he  had  been  there.  Not  much  chance 
if  she  was  in  the  way  of  the  Bulgars.  Still,  women  like 
Nancy  Cowder  somehow  imposed  themselves.  She'd 
not  be  afraid  of  all  the  armies  and  all  the  kings.  "  So 
slight  and  fine  and  free-moving,"  that  was  her  father's 
description — "talking  to  jockeys  and  breeders  and 
bookmen  and  not  seeing  them,  only  the  horse." 
"Thoroughbred  —  that  girl."  What  a  different  im 
pression  he  had  formed  of  her  from  Sabinsport  gossip ! 
He  had  not  realized  it  before  but  he  had  in  his  mind  a 
strapping  big  girl  with  a  stride  like  a  man's,  a  girl  with 
clear  gray  eyes  and  a  hearty  laugh. 

He  rose  and  looked  over  the  Times  for  the  article 
from  Serbia.  To  think  that  a  girl  could  give  her  life 
and  he  must  sit  here  quiet  by  his  fire.  He  laughed 
aloud  in  bitter  self-contempt. 

The  next  day  when  Dick  paid  his  usual  late  afternoon 
visit  to  the  Argus  office,  he  went  over  the  talk  he  had 
had  with  Cowder,  giving  in  detail  the  report  of  the 
quarrel  with  Otto  and  his  own  version.  To  his  sur 
prise,  Ralph  said  nothing  in  defense  of  Otto. 

"  He  isn't  neutral.     He   is   for  Germany,   just  as 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  91 

Patsy  and  you  are  for  the  Allies.  Nobody  in  Sabins- 
port  is  really  neutral  as  far  as  I  can  make  out.  This 
town  is  almost  solidly  against  Germany,  and  you  know 
it.  The  opposition  is  to  our  having  anything  to  do 
with  the  infernal  business.  Sabinsport  doesn't  believe 
in  war  or  doesn't  believe  in  this  war  for  us,  and  that's 
where  I  am  —  now.  I'm  for  the  people.  We're  try 
ing  to  keep  neutral  and  trying  to  see  both  sides.  But 
I'm  sick  of  it  —  beastly  business  —  think  of  Cowder 
and  Littman  quarreling.  Another  war  casualty,"  he 
said,  bitterly,  "  suspicion,  broken  friendships  —  a 
world  thrown  back  and  all  its  hopes  of  making  it  a 
place  fit  for  men  to  live  in  destroyed.  Everything 
we've  been  trying  to  do  the  last  twenty  years  gone  to 
pot.  There  won't  be  a  law  protecting  labor  left  in  the 
country  if  this  goes  on.  Who's  going  to  think  about 
hours  and  wages  and  safety  and  social  insurance  with 
that  thing  going  on  over  there?  Who  cares  any  more 
in  Sabinsport  whether  it's  right  or  wrong  to  let  two  men 

fobble  up  the  franchises?  Who  asks,  now  that  we  are 
eginning  to  make  money  and  have  good  prospects  of 
continuing  as  long  as  there's  a  war,  whether  it's  right 
to  turn  a  town  into  a  mill  for  destruction?  I'm  sick  of 
it,  Dick.  It's  ruining  things  for  us  all.  I'm  so  sore 
I  can't  bear  to  go  anywhere  any  more,  and  if  I  do  I 
always  have  a  row  with  somebody.  Went  to  Tom 
Sabins'  last  night  and  Patsy  was  there.  We  both  tried 
to  patch  it  up,  but  somebody  said  something  about  the 
freedom  of  the  seas  and  I  said  I  couldn't  see  why  a 
German  embargo  was  any  more  reprehensible  than  an 
English  one,  and  Patsy  went  up  like  a  rocket  and  said 
I  wasn't  human  —  had  no  sympathy  —  that  if  I'd  seen 
Belgium  as  she  did  —  she's  just  Belgium  mad.  Of 
course,  like  a  fool,  I  said  that  there  was  always  plenty 
of  a  suffering  near  at  hand,  and  people  of  real  human 
sympathy,  not  mere  emotionalism,  could  see  it.  I  was 


92  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

a  brute.  I  know  Patsy  is  right.  She  left  the  room, 
and  I  didn't  see  her  again,  and  Tom  said  she  cried. 

"  And  you,  Dick  —  the  war's  got  you.  You  needn't 
think  I  don't  realize  how  it's  hurting  you  to  have  to 
stay  here.  I  know  you'd  give  your  life  to  go.  Noth 
ing  makes  me  so  sore  as  to  see  you  standing  up  so 
gamely  to  your  sentence,  and  all  the  time  I  can't  see 
how  you  feel  like  you  do.  I  can't  get  it  as  a  thing  for 
me,  Dick.  It  isn't  that  I  am  all  obstinate  —  won't  see 
it  —  as  you  think.  I  can't  see  why  it's  up  to  us  to  go 
crazy  because  a  good  part  of  the  world  is  crazy,  but, 
honest  to  God,  Dick,  I'm  beginning  to  wish  I  could. 
I  can't  follow  Otto  —  nor  Patsy,  nor  the  Socialists  at 
the  mill  —  I  don't  seem  to  agree  with  anybody  —  and 
what  I  want  is  to  be  with  you  — " 

"  And  Patsy,"  smiled  Dick. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Ralph  inadvertently,  "  if  Patsy 
has  heard  from  that  Henry  Laurence  she  wrote  so 
much  about?  " 

"  She  hears  from  Mrs.  Laurence,  but  not  at  all  from 
Henry,  I  think,  Ralph.  Why?—" 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  he  said,  suddenly  cheerful,  then 
added,  sagely,  "  Such  an  experience  as  they  went 
through  together  would  naturally  draw  two  young  peo 
ple  together." 


CHAPTER  IV 

DICK  was  coming  in  from  a  five  days'  walking 
trip.  He  had  fled  from  town  on  Monday,  seek 
ing  what  the  road  and  the  sweet  early  May  air 
and  greenery  would  do  for  his  jumping  nerves  and  tor 
mented  mind.  "  Forget  the  war,"  counseled  Ralph, 
when  he  telephoned  he  was  off.  He  had  done  it  fairly 
well.  Spring  is  a  lovely  thing  in  the  highlands  around 
Sabinsport.  It  covers  the  earth  with  delicate  blossoms, 
turns  the  brown  tracery  of  the  trees  to  soft  yellows  and 
reds  and  greens,  peoples  the  air  with  songsters.  It 
was  early  this  year,  and  had  opened  the  doors  of  the 
farmhouses  —  started  gardens,  set  men  to  plowing 
fields,  women  to  sewing  on  the  porches,  children  to  wan 
dering  in  the  woods.  Dick  walked  without  other  com 
pass  than  his  own  experienced  sense  of  direction  and 
distance,  shunning  highways,  following  lanes  and  little- 
used  roads,  stopping  only  when  the  day  grew  dusky  and 
sleeping  by  preference  in  friendly  farmhouses. 

It  was  Saturday  morning,  warm,  brilliant,  fragrant. 
He  would  be  in  Sabinsport  by  noon,  he  calculated. 
How  changed  he  was!  How  rested!  How  bright 
things  seemed  again !  It  would  be  good  to  get  back. 
He  believed  he  could  preach  to-morrow.  It  should  be 
of  the  healing  of  the  air  and  the  sun. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  he  struck  Jo's  Mills,  as  it 
was  called  —  a  tiny  settlement  slightly  up  a  hill  from 
the  point  where  a  gray  old  mill  stood  on  the  edge  of  a 
stream  which  took  a  long  tumble  here.  There  were  a 
half  dozen,  comfortable,  old-time,  white  houses  on  the 
street,  with  apple-trees  and  lilacs  and  gardens.  There 
was  a  big  general  store  —  relic  of  early  days  when 
things  were  busy  —  only  half  occupied  now  —  a  church 

93 


94  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

—  a  school  —  a  post-office  in  the  wing  of  Miss  Sally 
Black's  house  —  a  neat,  prim  post-office  where  nobody 
warmed  his  back  long  —  though  Miss  Sally  was  not 
above  keeping  everybody  long  enough  to  feel  out  the 
news.     There  was  a  public  telephone  in  the  post-office, 
and  over  this  it  was  the  custom  of  the  Sabinsport  oper 
ators  to  communicate  to  Miss  Sally  anything  particu 
larly  important.     It  was  evident  to  Dick  as  he   ap 
proached  that  Miss  Sally  must  have  received  something 
that  the  neighbors  were  interested  in,  for  there  was  a 
little    group    standing    around,    looking   rather   glum. 
He  stopped  and  quite  instinctively  inquired,  "  What's 
the  news?  " 

"  Well,"  said  one  of  the  men  — "  it  don't  sound 
good  to  me  —  mebbe  'tain't  so  —  they  say  the  Ger 
mans  have  sunk  a  ship  —  a  big  one  with  a  lot  of  Ameri 
cans  and  women  and  children  —  didn't  give  no  notice 

—  nothing  —  just  sunk  'em." 

"  Well  —  what  I  say  is,"  said  another,  "that  ain't 
likely.  How  could  a  submarine  do  that  —  sink  a  ship 
like  that?  —  she'd  have  to  blow  up  inside  to  sink  so 
quickly.  Likely  her  enjine  exploded." 

Dick  didn't  stop  to  debate  the  power  of  the  sub 
marine,  but  quickly  stepped  in  and  called  Ralph  at  the 
Argus  office  in  Sabinsport. 

"  Hello,  Ralph,"  he  said.  "  I've  just  walked  into 
Jo's  Mills.  There's  an  ugly  report  here  of  the  sinking 
of  a  vessel  with  big  loss  of  Americans  —  anything  in 
it?" 

u  Everything  in  it,  the  Lusitania  was  torpedoed  yes 
terday  —  she  sank  in  a  few  minutes.  There  is  a  loss 
of  twelve  hundred  lives  reported,  one  hundred  of  them 
Americans." 

"  My  God!"  exclaimed  Dick. 

"Yes,"  replied  Ralph,  savagely,  "my  God!"  and 
both  men  hung  up. 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  95 

It  was  but  five  miles  into  Sabinsport,  but  Dick  al 
ways  thought  of  it  as  the  longest  and  blackest  five  miles 
he  ever  walked.  As  one  drew  nearer  the  town,  the 
valley  and  the  river  unfolded,  giving  glimpses  of  rare 
loveliness,  but  they  were  lost  on  him  now,  though  he 
had  been  looking  forward  to  them  all  the  morning  as 
a  delightful  finish  to  his  tramp.  The  tormented  world 
was  again  on  his  back  —  his  mind  was  grappling  with 
the  awful  possibilities  in  the  news.  This  was  no  or 
dinary  casualty  of  war  —  not  a  battle  lost  or  won. 
This  was  not  war,  as  war  was  understood.  It  was  a 
new  factor  in  the  awful  problem.  It  was  something 
quite  outside  the  code  —  a  deliberate  effort  to  scare 
the  neutral  world  into  giving  up  the  sea  code  it  had 
been  working  out  with  such  pain  through  the  ages  — 
scaring  them  into  admitting  that  atrocities  it  thought 
it  had  done  away  with  were  legitimate  if  you  invented 
an  engine  of  destruction  which  couldn't  be  used  unless 
you  abandoned  the  laws.  It  was  a  defiance  not  only 
of  all  codes,  but  a  most  impudent  defiance  of  the  stern 
warning  of  the  United  States.  Dick's  blood  ran  hot 
and  furious  as  he  thought  of  it.  "  It  can't  be  passed. 
It  means  action.  They'll  have  to  retreat  —  or  we'll 
have  to  fight  —  and  they'll  never  retreat.  It  would 
be  giving  up  half  of  what  they  think  their  strength,"  he 
said,  with  the  conviction  of  one  who  knew  his  Germany 

—  its  confidence  in  itself,  its  contempt  for  non-military 
peoples,  its  sneering  at  all  laws  or  practices  that  stood 
in  the  way  of  its  will. 

"But  who,  who  in  Sabinsport  sees  this  as  it  is? 
How  are  they  to  be  made  to  see  it?  Half  the  town 
will  treat  the  Lusitania  as  a  tragedy  like  the  Titanic. 
Captain  Billy  will  rave  and  say,  *  If  we  had  protested 

—  if  we  hadn't  a   Democratic   administration.'     But 
that  isn't  seeing  the  issue  —  his  kind  of  fury  against 
the  Germans  misses  the  point  —  the   inner  meaning 


96  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

which  the  country  must  see  if  it  ever  goes  whole-heart 
edly  in.  Wanton  piracy  —  as  savage  and  unmerciful 
as  the  Wotan  they  worship.  God!  if  I  could  get  into 
it.  But  here  I  stay.  I  will  go  home  —  bathe  — 
dress  —  read  my  mail  —  prepare  for  services  to-mor 
row  —  go  through  them.  I'll  sleep  and  eat  and  write 
and  smile  and  talk  as  if  this  fearful  thing  was  not  on 
the  earth  —  as  if  I  didn't  know  that  every  day  brought 
it  closer  to  Sabinsport  —  and  she  doesn't  know  it. 
Ralph's  right  —  it's  closing  in  on  us.  And  what  will 
Ralph  say,  I  wonder." 

What  Ralph  said  was  in  that  evening's  Argus.  It 
was  brief. 

"  When  men  go  to  war  the  appeal  is  to  violence,  de 
struction,  death.  He  who  can  destroy  most,  kill  most, 
is  the  superior.  You  take  what  comes  in  your  path. 
To  talk  of  laws  of  war  is  nonsense.  To  talk  of  mercy 
in  war  is  to  talk  hypocrisy.  You're  out  to  kill.  You 
kill  what's  in  your  way.  To  debate  your  right  to  do 
what  will  injure  an  enemy  is  not  the  way  of  war.  It  is 
the  way  of  peace.  The  destruction  of  the  Lusitania 
was  an  act  of  war  —  that  hideous,  senseless  thing  to 
which  Europe  has  appealed.  It  is  a  tragedy  that 
Americans  should  have  been  destroyed.  It  is  a  greater 
tragedy  that  they  should  have  put  themselves  deliber 
ately  in  the  path  of  death.  If  they  had  as  deliberately 
walked  between  the  firing  lines  in  battle,  would  we  have 
condemned  the  combatants  if  they  lost  their  lives?  " 

Dick  bowed  his  head  at  the  merciless  logic  of  the 
paragraph,  its  contempt  for  humanity  as  it  is,  its  lofty 
and  reckless  egotism.  He  was  encouraged,  however, 
when  he  learned  afterwards  that  when  Otto  had  con 
gratulated  Ralph  on  the  editorial,  Ralph  had  said: 
"  But  you  miss  my  point,  Otto.  I'm  not  defending 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  97 

your  infernal  country.  It  was  cowardly  business,  but 
it  was  logical.  You  Germans  are  in  a  fair  way  to 
demonstrate  the  silliness  of  trying  to  insist  on  honor 
in  war.  Laws  of  war  are  about  as  reasonable  as  laws 
against  tornadoes.  The  only  hope  I  have  is  that  you'll 
reduce  the  beastly  business  to  its  absurdity." 

The  effect  of  the  Lusitania  on  Sabinsport  was  much 
deeper  and  more  general  than  Dick  had  dared  dream. 
For  the  first  time  since  the  war  began  he  sensed  a  feel 
ing  of  personal  responsibility  abroad  —  in  the  banks, 
at  the  grocery,  on  the  street,  around  the  dinner  tables. 
There  was  a  growing  consciousness  that  this  was  some 
thing  which  did  concern  her,  something  that  she  must 
see  through.  There  were  a  few,  but  only  a  few  in  the 
town,  who  insisted  that  we  should  plunge  in  immediately 
and  avenge  the  outrage.  Sabinsport  was  not  ready  to 
do  that.  The  world  was  full  of  wrongs  calling  for 
vengeance,  was  the  Lusitania  the  one  out  of  all  these 
many  where  Sabinsport  must  act?  The  town  reeked 
with  discussion.  Dick  found  indignation,  however, 
qualified  strongly  by  the  suspicion  that  the  Lusitania 
was  armed.  The  doubt  was  a  hang-over  from  her  in 
herited  mistrust  of  English  ways  and  English  dealings. 
"  Probably  was  carrying  munitions,"  men  would  say. 
"  Probably  did  have  guns." 

Then,  too,  Sabinsport  found  it  hard  to  believe  that 
it  was  necessary,  and  therefore  right,  for  Americans  to 
go  to  Europe  during  the  war,  unless  they  went  to  enlist 
or  on  errands  of  mercy.  You  see,  Sabinsport's  idea  of 
business  was  limited,  provincial.  She  had  never  quite 
grasped  the  fact  that  men  ran  back  and  forth  to  Lon 
don  and  Paris  and  Berlin  now-a-days  on  legitimate  busi 
ness  quite  as  freely  as  a  few  of  her  own  citizens  ran 
back  and  forth  to  New  York.  Going  to  Europe  was 
still  an  adventure.  There  had  been  a  time  when  Sabins 
port  numbered  so  few  people  that  had  been  to  Europe 


98  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

that  she  had  formed  a  society,  "  The  Social  Club  of 
Those  Who  Have  Been  to  Europe."  It  had  not  lasted 
long,  for  she  had  a  sense  of  humor  which  saved  her 
from  keeping  alive  that  which  savored  of  snobbery,  and 
the  Social  Club  of  Those  Who  Have  Been  to  Europe 
died  a  quiet  and  early  death.  Going  abroad  was  now 
common  enough,  but  it  had  not  yet  assumed  the  pro 
portions  of  legitimate  business. 

In  spite  of  all  this,  however,  there  was  not  from  the 
first  a  doubt  in  Sabinsport's  mind,  if  you  got  down  to 
the  bottom  of  it,  that  whatever  laws  there  were  must  be 
observed;  whatever  rights  we  had  must  be  defended. 
Here  she  followed  Captain  Billy,  who  said,  "  By  the 
Jumping  Jehosophat,  we'll  go  where  we  have  a  right 
to."  One  would  have  thought,  to  hear  Captain  Billy, 
that  he  made  at  least  two  trips  across  the  ocean  a  year, 
though,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  had  never  laid  his  eyes 
on  that  water. 

"  Do  you  suppose,  if  my  business  calls  me  to  Lon 
don,"  said  he,  "  and  that  the  laws  allow  me,  an  Ameri 
can  citizen,  to  travel  on  an  English  vessel  that  I'm  go 
ing  to  keep  off  that  ship  ?  It  has  a  legal  right  to  carry 
me.  Of  course  they  can  come  aboard  and  see  if  that 
ship  has  contraband  and  guns,  and  if  they  find  them 
they  can  take  me  off;  but  they  can't  blow  her  up  until 
they  have  me  safe.  That's  all  they  can  do  under  the 
law,  and  that  they  have  got  to  do.  I'm  going  to  travel 
wherever  the  law  says  I  may." 

Thus  Captain  Billy  put  it  at  the  War  Board,  in  his 
grocery,  and  even  at  home,  where  Mrs.  Captain  Billy, 
who  always  took  him  literally,  said,  with  a  flutter, 
'*  William,  you  must  keep  off  those  ships,  even  if  you 
have  the  right  to  go  on  them.  You  will  only  make 
trouble  if  you  insist  on  going  to  London  now." 

And  in  this  insistence  there  were  others  in  Sabinsport 
who  agreed  with  Mrs.  Captain  Billy.  There  was  the 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  99 

Rev.  Mr.  Pepper,  as  I  have  already  explained.  There 
was  the  dwindling  Peace  Party.  There  was  a  small 
number  of  Socialists  in  the  mills.  But  they  made  only 
a  ripple  on  the  surface  of  that  staid,  settled  conviction 
in  Sabinsport's  mind — "  where  we  have  a  right  to  go, 
we're  going  to  go,  and  Germany  shall  not  stop  us." 

It  was  this  conviction,  so  strong  in  Sabinsport,  that 
made  her  pick  out  of  the  President's  diplomatic  corre 
spondence  two  words,  and  all  through  the  discussion 
cling  to  them.  He  had  said  "  strict  accountability  "  at 
the  start,  Sabinsport  agreed,  and  she  was  willing  to 
wait  and  stand  on  that.  "  Fine  " — "  Just  right  " — 
"  Don't  give  'em  a  loophole,"  was  the  average 
opinion.  Of  course  there  were  those  in  Sabinsport, 
though  they  were  very  few,  that  were,  like  Mr. 
Kinney,  the  pillar  in  Dick's  church,  who  had  found 
Belgium's  resistance  "  impractical,"  and  who  now 
argued  that  the  trouble  with  the  President's  cor 
respondence  was  that  it  did  not  give  us  "  a  leg  to 
run  on."  "  We  don't  want  war,"  said  Vestryman  Kin 
ney.  "  Diplomacy  consists  in  so  framing  your  notes 
that  you  have  a  way  out.  Suppose  Germany  won't 
agree,  we  must  back  down.  It  looks  bad  to  me.  He 
ought  to  have  been  more  skillful." 

In  all  this  discussion,  however,  Dick  saw  that  in 
grained  deeply  in  Sabinsport  was  the  idea  that  keeping 
peace  was  a  preeminent  national  duty.  He  found  in 
the  heart  of  the  town  a  solemn  conviction  that  a  coun 
try  ought  to  have  a  machinery  that  would  keep  its  peo 
ple  out  of  war,  that  when  things  went  wrong  with  other 
nations  there  ought  to  be  a  way  to  settle  them  without 
fighting.  Although  he  felt  that  anger  over  the  Lusi- 
tania  —  and  perhaps  something  more  serious  for  Ger 
many  than  anger,  that  was  contempt  for  the  act  — 
stayed  and  increased  in  the  town,  he  knew  that  she 
clung  to  the  conviction  that  there  ought  to  be  a  better 


ioo          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

way  than  force  to  settle  it.  Sabinsport  felt  and  argued 
very  much  as  she  felt  and  argued  about  the  attempts 
in  a  neighboring  State  where  lynchings  sometimes  oc 
curred  —  that  the  punishment  should  be  left  to  the 
law  and  not  to  a  mob.  To  rush  in  now,  as  Captain 
Billy  demanded,  seemed  to  Sabinsport  a  little  bit  like 
mob  action.  She  wanted  a  government  that  had  a  ma 
chinery  to  take  care  of  such  a  task  as  this  without 
forcing  her  to  leave  her  honest  business  of  earning  a 
living  to  take  up  the  abominable  business  of  destroying 
men.  She  had  an  idea  that  we  had  a  machinery  for 
just  this  purpose.  The  question  was,  Would  it  work? 

And  so  the  town  waited  on  events.  She  went  about 
her  business  of  feeding  and  clothing  herself,  but  her 
ears  were  open,  and  if  her  mouth  was  shut  her  mind 
was  at  work,  turning  over  the  mighty  and  unaccustomed 
problems.  Sabinsport  was  learning  new  words,  strug 
gling  with  strange  ideas,  trying  to  grasp  their  relation 
to  herself.  Did  these  things  concern  her  and  her  busi 
ness?  If  so,  all  right;  but  if  not,  well,  she'd  been 
trained  not  to  interfere;  and,  above  all,  not  to  interfere 
in  wars  across  the  seas. 

Of  all  the  20,000  people  in  Sabinsport,  only  one  was 
aroused  to  immediate  action  by  the  Lusitania.  A  week 
from  the  morning  that  he  had  heard  the  dire  news  at 
Jo's  Mills,  Dick  came  down  to  his  breakfast  to  find 
his  husky,  cheerful,  Irish  Katie  mith  swollen  eyes  and 
tragic  mien. 

"  Why,  Katie!  "  he  exclaimed.  "  What's  the  mat 
ter?  What's  Mikey  been  doing  now?"  He  took  it 
for  granted  it  was  Mikey.  He  had  never  known  any 
thing  else  to  reduce  Katie  to  tears. 

"  Oh,  my  God!  "  wailed  the  woman,  "  he's  gone  — 
gone  to  the  war  —  says  he's  gone  for  you.  You  never 
sent  him  away  from  me,  Mr.  Dick,  and  never  said  a 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE         101 

word  to  me.  You  haven't  a  heart  that  hard.  You 
couldn't  do  a  thing  like  that." 

"  I  certainly  wouldn't  do  such  a  thing,  Katie.  I 
haven't  sent  Mikey  away.  I  don't  understand  it. 
Tell  me  what's  happened  —  that's  a  good  soul."  But 
all  that  Katie  could  find  words  to  say  was:  "  Read 
that  —  and  that  to  me,  his  own  mother." 

Dick  took  the  crumpled,  tear-stained  letter  and  read: 

"  Dear  Mother: 

"  I'm  going  to  war.  They'll  take  me  in  Canada. 
You  tell  Mr.  Dick  to  stop  worrying  because  he  can't 
fight.  I'll  do  his  fightin'  and  don't  you  go  off  your 
head.  I  can't  stick  around  Sabinsport  any  longer  with 
such  things  doin'  in  the  world.  The  Dutchmen  are 
off  their  bases  —  they've  got  to  get  back  where  they 
belong. 

"  I'd  said  good-by  but  I  knew  you'd  make  a  row. 
"  Your  loving  son, 

"  MIKEY  FLAHERTY." 

"  I  didn't  know  this,  Katie.  Mike  never  had 
dropped  a  word  to  me  that  would  make  me  suspect  he 
was  thinking  of  this.  I  don't  understand  what  he 
means  by  going  for  me." 

"  I  knew  it,  the  spalpeen.  I  knew  you'd  never  treat 
poor  old  Katie  like  this.  I  understand  it  well  enough, 
now.  It's  him  spilin'  for  the  fight.  It's  my  own  fault. 
Didn't  I  tell  him  you  was  eatin'  your  heart  out  because 
you  can't  go,  and  he  has  been  talkin'  a  lot  of  late  about 
what  you  had  been  sayin'  at  the  Club.  Every  night 
when  he  came  home,  it  was  Mr.  Dick  said  this,  and 
Mr.  Dick  said  that.  Silly  old  fool,  I  am.  And  him 
that  would  rather  fight  than  eat  and  that  sets  the  world 
by  you,  Mr.  Dick." 


102          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

u  But,  Katie,  what  put  that  nonsense  into  your 
head?" 

"  Oh,"  said  the  woman,  sagely,  "  I  know.  I  know 
it  like  I  wuz  your  mother.  You  don't  have  to  tell  me 
things.  I  know  you  like  I  do  the  weather.  You  ain't 
been  the  same  since  the  dirty  Germans  did  up  poor  lit 
tle  Belgium.  I  know  the  only  reason  you  don't  go  is 
that  you  wouldn't  live  a  day." 

'  Nonsense,  Katie.     Where'd  you  get  that?  " 

u  Mikey  told  me.  He  was  that  cut  up  because  you 
couldn't  go,  but  he  needn't  have  run  away  from  his  poor 
old  mother  like  this.  I'd  let  him  go  for  you.  I'm  no 
coward.  It  ain't  his  goin' ;  it's  his  thinkin'  I  wouldn't 
let  him.  He's  always  beatin'  up  somebody  —  might 
as  well  be  Germans.  God  pity  'em  when  Mikey  gets 
there.  He'll  wipe  up  the  road  with  'em.  And  don't 
you  be  worryin',  Mr.  Dick.  I'll  stand  it.  He  can 
write  me,  can't  he?  " 

"  Katie,  I  won't  allow  this.  Mikey  must  come  back. 
I'll  go  to  Canada  and  have  a  search  made  for  him.  I 
have  friends  who'll  find  him." 

"  Indade  and  you  won't  do  anything  of  the  kind. 
Would  you  break  the  by's  heart  —  and  me  that  proud 
of  him?  Where's  the  other  by  in  Sabinsport  that  had 
the  right  to  get  up  and  go?  Let  him  fight.  I'll  live 
to  see  him  with  the  stripe  on  his  sleeve  —  as  grand  as 
the  grandest.  You'll  not  raise  a  finger.  Drink  your 
coffee  now,  and  don't  mind  me,  old  fool  that  I  am  to 
be  makin'  you  worry  for  a  little  thing  like  that." 

And  so  Dick,  with  one  eye  on  Katie's  furtive  wiping 
of  her  eyes,  drank  his  coffee,  wondering  as  he  did  it  at 
the  amazing  intuition  that  affection  gives.  Katie  and 
Mikey  had  discerned  —  so  he  told  himself  —  what  no 
body  in  Sabinsport  but  Ralph  knew,  and  he  had  said 
enough  to  Ralph  to  explain  his  understanding.  What 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE         103 

was  it  that  ran  from  soul  to  soul  and  opened  to  the  un 
lettered  what  was  closed  to  the  most  highly  trained,  he 
asked  himself.  But  they  are  Irish,  and  the  Irish  have 
a  sixth  sense  —  one  that  looks  into  hearts. 

But  it  was  not  divination,  it  was  simply  the  keen  and 
affectionate  eye  of  Katie  on  him  through  all  those  ter 
rible  August  and  September  days  at  the  beginning. 
She  saw  what  Dick  did  not  realize,  the  beaten  stoop  to 
his  shoulder,  the  despairing  look  in  his  eye  when  he 
came  back  from  his  effort  to  enlist.  Many  was  the 
night  during  the  days  of  that  first  approach  to  Paris 
that  Katie  had  gone  home  to  tell  Mikey,  "  He's  dyin' 
of  grief,  he  is.  He  looks  at  his  paper  in  the  morning 
and  drops  his  head  in  his  hands  and  groans.  He  don't 
eat  and  he  don't  talk.  The  big  battle  is  killin'  him.  I 
peeps  in  now  and  then  to  his  study  and  he  is  sittin' 
lifeless  like,  thinkin'  and  thinkin'.  Mikey,  he's  dyin' 
for  love  of  France,  could  you  beat  it?  " 

And  Mikey,  much  perplexed,  watched  his  hero  and 
took  excruciating  pains  to  keep  the  brakes  on  himself, 
not  to  do  anything  to  worry  Mr.  Dick.  When  the 
battle  was  over  and  the  Germans  turned  back,  Dick's 
joy  was  so  great  that  Katie  herself  began  to  rejoice. 
For  Katie  Flaherty,  the  war  dated  from  that  first  week 
of  September,  1914.  Also  from  then  dated  what  was 
to  become  the  dominating  passion  of  her  life  —  her 
hatred  of  Germany. 

Mikey's  sudden  departure  was  quickly  known  in 
Sabinsport,  and  Katie  did  not  hesitate  to  make  the  most 
of  the  fact  that  he  had  gone  for  love  of  Mr.  Dick. 
It  had  its  romantic  value,  that  runaway.  It  made 
Katie  a  town  heroine.  Certain  well-to-do  gentlemen 
in  the  banks,  Cowder  and  Mulligan  among  them,  sent 
her  a  purse.  There  was  much  talking  to  her  in  the 
streets  as  she  did  Dick's  marketing,  and  nightly  on  the 


104          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

porch  of  the  little  house  on  the  south  bank  of  the  river 
where  she  lived  a  group  of  friendly  neighbors  came  in 
to  cry  or  to  exult  according  to  Katie's  humor. 

Dick  was  not  long  in  sensing  that  Mikey's  action  was 
making  opinion  in  Sabinsport,  much  as  Patsy's  adven 
tures  in  Belgium  had  done.  The  very  children  caught 
it,  and  Richard  Cowder  stopped  more  than  once  in  his 
favorite  South  Side  Alley  to  discuss  with  the  "  gang  " 
what  the  runaway  was  probably  doing  at  the  moment. 
In  reporting  his  conversations,  he  sometimes  would 
shake  his  head,  saying,  "  You  know  these  youngsters 
are  getting  a  new  idea  about  running  away  —  that  it 
may  be  a  glorious  deed." 

The  point  at  which  the  effect  was  most  significant,  in 
Dick's  judgment,  was  the  wire  mill.  Practically  all  of 
the  boys  in  the  South  Side  Club  belonged  there.  They 
were  friends  and  companions  of  Mikey.  His  going 
away  had  sobered  them  and  made  them  far  and  away 
more  interested  in  the  war.  The  most  significant  ef 
fect  was  the  way  in  which  they  cooled  toward  a  move 
ment  which  had  begun  to  make  strong  headway  in  the 
factories  and  mills,  a  movement  in  which  Ralph  was 
taking  keen  interest  as  he  saw  in  it  a  possibility  of  re 
viving  the  opposition  to  munition  making  which  had 
been  destroyed  by  Cowder's  and  Mulligan's  appeal  to 
the  mill.  This  movement  was  already  beginning  to 
crystallize  into  a  new  party,  made  up  of  workmen  and 
farmers.  It  was  called  Labor's  National  Peace  Coun 
cil.  Nobody  could  tell  just  who  started  it  in  the  mill, 
but  Ralph  had  seized  the  idea  and  was  working  seri 
ously  for  it. 

'  Where  in  hell  did  it  come  from?  "  Cowder  asked 
Dick.  "  Not  out  of  this  town,  I  tell  you,  Ingraham. 
I  know  this  town  like  a  book.  There's  no  Labor  Peace 
Council  in  it  when  there's  plenty  of  work.  This 
scheme's  been  sneaked  in  from  outside,  and  it's  being 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE         105 

fed  on  the  sly.  What  I  can't  make  out  is,  Who's  do 
ing  it?  It's  the  same  crowd  that  kept,  up  the  battle 
against  munitions.  I  don't  believe  it's  Otto.  I'm 
watching  him.  It's  somebody  in  the  plants." 

Dick  had  his  notions.  They  were  connected  with  an 
investigation  he  had  been  making  on  the  quiet.  His 
curiosity  about  where  the  boys  in  his  club  got  the  argu 
ments  they  presented  against  munition  making  and  sell 
ing  had  led  him  to  look  into  the  journals  they  read, 
particularly  the  foreign  journals  —  Slovak,  Bohemian, 
Italian,  Polish.  He  discovered  that  they  were  all 
carrying  a  surprisingly  similar  series  of  articles,  pro 
testing  on  the  highest  moral  grounds  against  the  drag 
ging  of  the  workmen  into  such  a  business  —  making 
munition,  forcing  them  to  earn  their  bread  by  prepar 
ing  destruction  for  their  fellows,  or  going  without  it. 
He  didn't  like  it  and  spoke  to  Ralph,  translating  to  him 
the  selections  that  he  had  put  his  hands  on. 

"  It's  the  same  hand  that  does  this,  Ralph;  what  do 
you  think?  " 

"  Why,"  said  Ralph,  "  I've  had  that  stuff  offered 
me.  I  know  all  about  it.  There's  a  bunch  of  peace 
makers  in  the  East  who  are  syndicating  it,  in  the  do 
mestic  as  well  as  the  foreign  press,  paying  all  the  ex 
penses.  They  say  it's  their  contribution  to  the  cause. 
The  agent  offered  it  to  me  here.  They  would  not  give 
me  the  names  of  the  philanthropists.  I  told  the  agent 
that  I  didn't  advertise  justice,  I  advocated  it.  But, 
Dick,  it's  all  right.  They're  just  silly,  mistaken  in  their 
way  of  getting  at  it.  You  cannot  carry  on  advertising 
of  this  kind  in  this  country  but  people  get  onto  the 
source  of  it  very  soon,  just  as  you  have;  and  that  puts 
an  end  to  it.  I  told  the  man  that  offered  me  that  stuff 
that  would  be  the  way  of  it." 

i4  Did  Otto  ever  mention  this  to  you,  Ralph?  " 

Ralph  studied.     "  I  believe  he  did  once  —  asked  me 


io6         THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

if  I  had  ever  heard  of  the  scheme  —  if  it  had  ever  been 
offered  to  me.  He  said  a  newspaper  friend  of  his  in 
New  York  spoke  to  him  about  it.  I  told  him  what 
I've  told  you:  that  people  who  believed  in  these  no 
tions  and  wanted  to  get  them  over  should  come  into 
the  open  with  them.  I  don't  take  any  stock  in  pacifists 
that  don't  work  in  the  open." 

Dick  told  Cowder  all  he  knew. 

"  Proves  nothing,"  he  said,  u  but  I  don't  like  it." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Dick. 

When  Labor's  National  Peace  Council  began  to 
flourish,  Dick  couldn't  get  it  out  of  his  head  that  there 
was  a  connection  between  the  two,  that  the  humani 
tarian  advertisers  were  the  backers  of  the  movement. 
He  went  to  Ralph  with  the  suggestion.  That  young 
man  had  thrown  himself  boldly  into  the  campaign  and 
he  resented  Dick's  idea  that  there  was  something  sus 
picious  behind  it. 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  he  declared  hotly.  "  It's  the 
natural  thing  for  people  who  work,  and  only  want  to 
do  useful,  honest  work,  to  revolt  against  this  kind  of 
thing.  This  is  a  spontaneous  labor  movement,  I  tell 
you,  Dick.  Our  working  people  and  our  farmers  don't 
believe  in  playing  with  fire  —  when  the  fire  means  war. 
They  know  this  selling  to  the  Allies  what  the  Allies 
wouldn't  otherwise  have  is  going  to  exasperate  Ger 
many  and  may  drag  us  in.  I  tell  you  it's  perfectly 
natural  they  should  rise  and  protest  and  prepare  to 
fight  it  out  at  the  elections." 

"  But,  Ralph,  who  started  this  thing  here?  Where 
did  it  come  from?  The  shops?  " 

"  Hanged  if  I  know  —  started  itself,  I  tell  you.  I 
don't  care  —  it's  the  ideas.  They're  sound.  I'm  for 
them." 

"  But  if  these  ideas  were  being  scattered  and  watered 
by  the  paid  agents  of  Germany,  how  would  you  feel 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          107 

about  it?  You  must  know  by  this  time  that  Germany 
has  no  sympathy  for  peace;  that  she  believes  in  war. 
You  must  realize  that  she  has  no  objection  to  selling 
munitions  herself.  Why,  half  the  world  gets  its  big 
guns  from  her.  It's  because  she  hopes  to  trap  us  into 
being  unneutral  —  refusing  for  an  illogical  sentiment 
to  sell  her  enemies  munitions  that  she's  working  this 
thing  up.  It's  part  of  her  war  program.  Can't  you 
see  it,  Ralph?" 

"  I  tell  you  there's  nothing  in  your  suspicion.  Look 
at  the  men  who've  been  here  to  speak  for  the  party  — 
as  good  labor  men  as  the  Federation  has.  You  can't 
suspect  them  of  pro-Germanism;  they're  for  peace,  I 
tell  you,  and  putting  an  end  to  this  infernal  shell  and 
powder  making." 

Nor  was  it  until  Ralph  had  been  in  Washington  to 
the  famous  August,  1915,  meeting  of  the  council  and 
had  himself  heard  the  cynical  reply  of  the  precious  ras 
cal  that  was  managing  affairs,  to  the  demand  of  honest 
working  men  for  an  explanation  of  the  source  of  the 
funds  that  were  being  so  lavishly  used,  "  What  if  it  is 
German  money?" — that  he  yielded.  "I've  been  a 
fool,"  he  said  to  Dick  quite  frankly  when  he  came  back, 
and  quite  as  frankly  he  told  the  story  of  his  own  con 
nection  with  the  party  in  the  Argus. 

'  The  editor  of  this  paper  has  never  concealed  his 
opinion  of  war.  He  considers  it  a  senseless  and  brutal 
method  of  trying  to  settle  human  differences.  He  con 
siders  the  present  war  in  Europe  an  unnecessary  crime 
in  which  all  the  nations  concerned  are  partners.  This 
war  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  United  States,  and  the 
efforts  to  involve  us,  whether  they  come  from  within  or 
without,  are  works  of  the  devil.  Nobody  who  reads 
the  Argus  can  doubt  that  this  has  been  our  opinion  from 
the  start.  Thinking  this,  we  could  only  look  on  muni- 


io8          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

tion  making  in  this  country  as  deliberate  trading  with 
the  devil.  Big  Business  never  stops  to  consider  human 
ity  when  there's  money  to  be  made.  The  Argus  has 
consistently  fought  the  making  and  the  selling  of  muni 
tions.  When  a  party  arose  which  had  this  end,  the 
Argus  welcomed  it,  supported  it.  The  Argus  was  a 
fool  in  doing  this.  Closer  contact  with  the  leaders  of 
the  party  proved  to  the  editor  that  a  bunch  of  grafting 
Americans  had  persuaded  a  thick-headed  German  agent 
that  if  he'd  give  them  money  enough  they'd  swing  this 
country  away  from  England,  via  peace  and  brotherly 
love.  This  came  out  last  week  in  Washington.  We 
shook  the  dust  of  the  town  from  our  feet,  as  did  every 
self-respecting  farmer  and  laborer  there,  when  we  dis 
covered  it.  The  Argus  is  for  peace,  but  it  is  not  inter 
ested  in  pulling  German  chestnuts  out  of  the  fire.  For 
whatever  assistance  it  has  given  heretofore  in  that 
operation  it  apologizes  to  its  readers  and  it  assures 
them  it  was  ignorance  and  not  pro-Germanism  which 
was  behind  its  activities." 

There  was  much  discussion  of  the  editorial  over 
Sabinsport  supper  tables  that  evening. 

Dick  was  still  in  his  study  when  the  telephone  rang: 
"  Is  it  you,  Dick?"  an  excited  voice  called.  "  Have 
you  seen  Ralph's  editorial?  Isn't  it  splendid?  Isn't 
it  just  like  him,  the  honestest  thing  in  the  world.  Just 
can't  be  dishonest  —  oh,  Dick,  do  you  think  I  might 
call  him  up  and  tell  him  so?  He  despises  me  so.  But 
to  know  he  isn't  pro-German  makes  me  so  happy." 

"  Call  him  up,  by  all  means,  Patsy," —  for  it  was 
Patsy,  though  she  hadn't  announced  herself.  "  He'll 
be  mighty  pleased,  I  know." 

And  Patsy  called,  but  Ralph  was  not  to  be  found, 
and  an  hour  later  her  courage  waned.  "  Maybe  Dick 
will  tell  him,"  and  Dick  did  two  or  three  days  later, 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          109 

but  Ralph  only  grumbled,  "  She  evidently  didn't  think 
enough  of  it  to  tell  me  so  herself." 

The  editorial  brought  out  an  unusually  full  meeting 
of  the  War  Board.  Ralph  came  in  and  told  them  all 
about  it,  and  Brutus,  who  had  "  known  it  all  the  time," 
hinted  at  revelations  he'd  soon  be  able  to  make.  Ac 
cording  to  Brutus,  this  was  a  very  insignificant  activity 
of  the  German  agents.  He  knew  it  to  be  a  fact  that 
they  had  vast  stores  of  arms  in  New  York,  Pittsburgh, 
Cincinnati,  Chicago,  and  Omaha,  and  that  if  the 
United  States  wasn't  mighty  careful  what  she  did  there 
would  be  an  army  of  thousands  of  Germans  shutting 
us  in  our  houses  while  German  fleets  bombarded  the 
Atlantic  and  Pacific  coasts  and  Zeppelins  rained  fire  on 
our  roofs.  To  which  Captain  Billy  swore  agreement. 

While  the  discussion  went  on  at  the  War  Board,  an 
other  went  on  in  a  speeding  car,  driven  by  Otto  Litt- 
man.  Otto  had  gone  out  for  a  spin  in  his  little  road 
ster —  a  thing  he  often  did  on  hot  summer  nights. 
Across  the  river  on  the  hill  at  a  dark  corner  he  had 
slowed  up  a  bit,  just  enough  for  a  man  to  step  on  the 
running  board  and  into  the  car.  Katie  Flaherty,  going 
home  from  Dick's,  said  to  herself:  "The  reckless 
creature!  How  did  he  know  he  was  wanted?  It's  a 
queer  thing  he  didn't  stop.  It's  Otto  Littman,  I'm 
thinkin'." 

It  was  indeed,  and  the  lithe  figure  that  had  entered 
the  running  car  was  Max  Dalberg,  the  "  wonder  of 
the  laboratory,"  whom  Reuben  Cowder  had  mentioned 
to  Dick  in  his  first  confidence  of  weeks  before. 

'  Well,  Littman,"  the  newcomer  said,  with  some 
thing  like  a  sneer,  "  your  young  man  on  the  Argus  is 
mighty  high  in  his  tone  to-night.  What's  up  ?  Didn't 
they  divvy  in  Washington?  " 

:'  None  of  that,  Max.  Ralph  Gardner's  not  that 
kind.  I  don't  know  where  you  people  get  the  idea  that 


no          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

all  Americans  can  be  bought.  They  can't  be,  and  yet 
this  whole  business  has  been  based  on  money.  You 
know  I  never  believed  in  this.  I  have  been  willing  to 
put  your  case  whenever  I  had  the  chance.  I  believe 
it's  right.  I'll  work  for  Germany  in  any  way  I  think 
honest,  but  I  won't  lie  and  I  won't  bribe." 

u  You  can't  put  Germany's  case  fully  in  this  country, 
young  man,  and  you  know  it.  The  Americans  are  a  set 
of  sentimental  fools.  They're  hypocrites,  too.  Talk 
about  neutrality!  The  whole  bunch  is  like  Cowder. 
Pitch  you  out  if  you  suggest  selling  munitions  to  even 
another  neutral  country.  There  isn't  a  score  of  manu 
facturers  in  this  country  that  wouldn't  rather  close  their 
plants  than  sell  to  us.  Do  you  call  that  neutrality?  " 

"  I  tell  you,  Max,  it's  the  people.  You  don't  see 
things  as  they  are  at  all  —  it's  not  the  Government. 
The  Government  is  not  preventing  the  munition  makers 
from  selling  to  Germany.  The  trouble  is  these  muni 
tion  makers  here  won't  sell  to  Germany." 

"  But  what  kind  of  a  government  is  it  that  cannot 
control  its  people?  Do  you  suppose  our  Kaiser  would 
tolerate  that  kind  of  weakness?  For  the  sake  of  the 
United  States,  Otto,  you  ought  to  help  teach  this  people 
what  a  strong  nation  really  is.  If  this  country  expects 
to  live  she  must  learn  to  obey  —  learn  that  masters  are 
necessary.  What's  she  doing  now?  —  taking  the  bit 
in  her  teeth  —  thinking  and  doing  what  she  pleases. 
She's  elected  a  President  to  do  her  thinking  and  she 
won't  follow  him  —  forces  him  to  do  what  his  judg 
ment  is  against." 

4  What  do  you  mean?  " 

1  Why,  those  notes.  Wilson  would  never  have  writ 
ten  them  if  he  hadn't  been  afraid  of  the  people.  He's 


too  wise." 


'  You're  wrong,  Max.     Wilson  thinks  just  as  Sabins- 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          in 

port  does  and  he's  doing  a  thing  the  country  will  back 
up." 

'*  They  won't  have  a  chance  long.  Germany's  pa 
tience  is  failing.  We'll  attend  to  that.  If  they  insist, 
they'll  get  —  Otto,  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  there 
won't  be  a  plant  left  in  this  country  soon  to  make  muni 
tions  if  they  insist,  and  there  won't  be  a  vessel  on  the 
seas  to  carry  them.  We'll  take  care  of  that.  You 
know  we  can  do  it.  Why,  there's  not  a  factory  in  the 
States  that  our  people  are  not  in,  and  there's  not  a 
vessel  out  that  we  can't  split.  We're  giving  them  a 
chance  —  appealing  to  their  own  fool  sentiments. 
*  Love  peace?  '  Well,  take  peace  —  don't  love  peace 
and  talk  hatred  of  Germany.  '  Hate  money  made 
from  munitions?  '  Well,  that's  easy;  don't  make  'em. 
We're  only  giving  them  their  own  dope,  Otto,  and 
they  refuse  to  stand  by  their  own  faith.  Hypocrites ! 
English !  If  they  won't  take  a  Labor's  Peace  Council, 
you  can  be  sure  they'll  get  a  first-class  explosion  party 
—  and  that  right  soon." 

"  See  here,  Max,  I  can't  follow  anything  like  that. 
I'm  willing  to  educate  my  country,  but  I  won't  revenge 
her  because  she  refuses  my  teaching.  Cut  it  out." 

The  ruddy  blond  face  of  Otto  Littman's  companion 
wore  usually  the  gentlest  of  smiles  —  the  few  who  had 
ever  met  him  in  Sabinsport  thought  him  a  harmless 
man,  devoted  to  his  laboratory  —  talking  little,  playing 
his  piano  often  late  after  a  busy  day's  hard  work, 
friendly  to  little  children,  troubling  nobody.  "  Never 
had  a  better  man,"  said  Cowder,  who  almost  daily 
visited  the  laboratory  and  listened  to  his  explanations 
of  difficulties  both  physical  and  chemical  and  how  they 
could  be  overcome  —  watched  his  ingenious  experi 
ments,  discussed  long  with  him  future  developments. 

"German   parentage  —  born    here,"    he    had   told 


ii2          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

Cowder.  He  never  talked  of  the  war  more  than  to 
to  say  sadly,  "  It's  bad  business." 

Cowder  and  the  children  who  ran  to  him  on  the 
street  at  night  would  not  have  recognized  him  now  as 
he  leaned  over  Otto  Littman  —  his  blue  eyes  glittering 
like  steel  points,  his  lips  drawn  back  until  two  full  rows 
of  white  teeth  showed  —  they  would  not  have  known 
the  voice  with  its  hateful  sneer. 

'  Too  late,  Otto.  You're  in.  You  can't  get  out. 
Do  you  suppose  we  are  going  to  let  as  good  and  pros 
perous  an  agent  as  you  are,  with  a  father  above  all 
suspicion,  go  when  we've  got  him?  We've  got  you, 
Otto  Littman,  and  you'll  do  what  the  High  Command 
orders.  Come,  come,  boy,  don't  be  an  ass.  And  re 
member  where  your  interests  are.  This  country  is 
doomed  if  she  doesn't  soon  see  where  her  advantage 
lies.  You're  made,  whatever  happens,  for  His  Maj 
esty  never  forgets.  Your  name  is  on  his  books." 

Otto  Littman  made  no  reply,  but,  swinging  his  car 
around  sharply,  drove  rapidly  back,  only  slowing  up  as 
he  approached  the  dusky  turn  where  his  passenger  had 
stepped  in.  He  stepped  out  now  as  skillfully,  and  the 
car  went  on.  One  hearing  it  pass  would  have  been 
quite  willing  to  swear  that  it  had  not  stopped. 

"  Poor  fool,"  Max  said  to  himself.  u  Thought  he 
could  mix  in  great  affairs  and  pull  out  at  will.  That's 
your  American  education  for  you  —  willing  to  blurt 
into  anything  that's  new  and  promises  excitement, 
pulling  out  the  instant  it  gets  dangerous  or  pinches 
their  cheap  little  notions  of  morality.  Gott  in  Him- 
mel!  what  does  he  expect?  —  that  Germany  will  toler 
ate  such  nonsense  from  any  country  on  the  globe? 
Our  time  has  come  and  they  must  learn  to  understand 
what  valor  and  power  mean  in  the  world." 

He  took  out  his  pipe  and  lit  it  and  strolled,  softly 
humming,  into  the  rooms  he  occupied;  they  made  up 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          113 

the  second  story  at  Kate  Flaherty's.  It  was  a  con 
venient  arrangement  for  a  single  man  who  liked  to  come 
and  go  according  "  to  things  at  the  plant."  The  little 
frame  house  was  built  like  many  on  the  South  Side, 
into  the  hill;  its  first  story  opened  on  one  level,  its 
second  on  another  a  street  above.  Max  had  this 
second  floor  to  himself  now  that  Mike  had  flown.  He 
had  said  to  Mrs.  Flaherty  that  he'd  be  glad  to  take 
both  rooms,  his  books  and  papers  having  outgrown  the 
one.  He  had  made  it  very  pleasant  and  convenient  — 
wonderfully  convenient  for  a  gentleman  who  occasion 
ally  had  late  callers  and  preferred  they  should  not  be 
seen  coming  or  going. 

Poor  Otto  reached  home  in  a  very  different  state  of 
mind.  The  exciting  game  he  had  been  playing  for 
months  now  with  a  proud  conviction  that  he  was  in 
deed  on  the  inside,  an  actor  in  world  affairs,  a  man 
trusted  by  great  diplomats  and  certain  one  day  to  be 
recognized  as  one  of  those  that  had  helped  hold  the 
United  States  when  she  was  on  the  verge  of  losing  her 
self  to  England  —  the  game  had  taken  a  new  turn.  It 
was  out  of  his  hands.  He  was  no  longer  the  player  — 
he  was  the  puppet.  What  could  he  do?  Was  it  true 
they  "had"  him? 

Otto  Littman  was  one  of  not  a  few  prosperous  young 
German- Americans  who  were  caught  in  1914,  1915, 
and  1916  in  the  coarse  and  rather  clumsy  web  that 
German  intrigue  spun  over  spots  in  this  land.  Otto's 
trapping  had  begun  at  least  half  a  dozen  years  before, 
when  he  had  made  his  first  visit  to  Germany.  He  was 
then  twenty-four,  a  handsome,  rather  arrogant,  excel 
lently  educated  young  man.  Rupert  Littman  had  done 
his  best  for  his  only  son.  He  himself  was  the  best  of 
men.  He  had  come  here  in  the  early  fifties  —  a  lad 
of  ten  or  twelve,  with  his  father,  a  refugee  of  the 
revolution  of  1848.  They  had  found  their  way  to 


ii4          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

Cincinnati  and  finally  to  a  farm  near  Sabinsport.  The 
land  had  thrived  under  the  elder  Littman's  intelligent 
and  friendly  touch.  He  was  a  prosperous  man  when 
the  opening  of  the  coal  vein  under  his  farm  made  him 
rich.  He  came  into  Sabinsport  and  with  others,  made 
rich  like  himself,  started  a  farmers'  bank.  This  bank 
Rupert  had  inherited,  and  it  was  to  carry  it  on  that  he 
had  educated  Otto,  sending  him  to  Germany  to  the 
family  he  had  not  seen  since  childhood  but  with  which 
he  had  always  had  a  formal  relation,  with  the  under 
standing  that  he  was  to  spend  at  least  two  years  in 
studying  German  banking  and  commercial  methods. 

The  two  years  had  lengthened  to  six,  for  Otto  had 
been  well  received  by  his  relatives.  An  opening  had 
been  found  for  him  in  Berlin  where  he  had  been  given 
the  opportunities  his  father  sought  for  him.  He  had 
been  cultivated  by  serious  and  older  people,  and  always 
his  relatives  had  lost  no  opportunity  of  impressing  upon 
him  the  honors  that  were  done  him,  of  telling  him  that 
he  was  being  taken  in  even  as  they  were  not.  Otto 
had  been  flattered,  though  not  so  deeply  as  his  relatives 
felt  that  he  should  have  been.  He  had  not  taken  the 
attentions  and  opportunities  with  an  especial  serious 
ness.  There  was  a  considerable  percentage  of  inner 
conviction  that  they  were  his  due,  that  there  must  be 
qualities  in  him  that  the  attentive  had  detected  which 
were  not  in  others.  Being  an  American  meant  some 
thing  in  Germany,  he  saw;  also  he  soon  discovered  that 
there  were  two  classes  of  his  compatriots  that  Berlin 
cultivated  —  the  millionaires  and  the  professors.  It 
is  doubtful  if  Otto  realized  how  very  cunning  this  was 
on  the  part  of  Berlin.  She  had  chosen  the  two  classes 
of  the  United  States  most  susceptible  to  flattery,  and 
best  placed  to  serve  her  purpose.  And,  how  our  mil 
lionaires  and  our  professors  had  played  her  game! 

It  was  not  so  much  what  was  done  for  him  and  for 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          115 

other  Americans  in  Berlin  that  impressed  Otto.  It 
was  the  country  itself  —  the  brightness  and  neatness  of 
things  captivated  him.  He  liked  its  little  gardens  with 
every  inch  under  immaculate  cultivation  —  its  tidy  for 
ests  where  the  very  twigs  were  saved  —  its  people  fit 
ted  into  their  particular  niches  like  so  many  well-ar 
ranged  books  on  a  shelf.  He  liked  the  sense  of  men 
and  women  being  looked  after,  kept  in  health,  kept  in 
employment,  the  utmost  made  out  of  them  —  no  more 
letting  a  bit  of  human  material  go  to  waste  than  a  bit 
of  iron. 

Their  ways  of  doing  things  in  business  pleased  him. 
There  was  always  somebody  that  knew  everything  to 
be  known  about  a  particular  thing.  There  were  ex 
perts  for  every  feature  of  the  banking  business.  It 
was  not  an  inherited  rule-of-thumb  way  of  carrying  on 
things,  such  as  he  was  familiar  with  at  home;  it  was 
a  thoroughly  considered,  scientific  practice.  To  be 
sure,  it  seemed  ponderous  to  him,  but  he  felt  as  if  it 
were  sure.  It  had  been  thought  out.  Science  —  sci 
ence  in  everything  —  nothing  left  to  chance  — •  no  re 
liance  on  luck.  He  began  to  take  the  banking  business 
very  seriously  indeed,  to  feel  that  he  could  carry  home 
something  important  and  serve  not  only  Sabinsport  but 
the  country  at  large,  which  at  that  moment  was  wallow 
ing  in  a  terrible  banking  muddle  over  which  his  Ger 
man  friends  held  up  their  hands  in  shocked  amazement. 

As  time  went  on,  Otto  began  to  take  other  things 
more  seriously,  and  gradually  there  crept  over  him  a 
sense  of  something  stupendous  going  on  in  men's 
thoughts  and  souls.  People  were  not  living  for  the 
present  in  Germany  as  at  home;  they  were  not  accept 
ing  their  place  in  the  world  as  something  fixed;  they 
seemed  always  to  have  before  them  the  future,  and  that 
future  on  which  their  eyes  were  fixed  was  something  of 
magnificent  if  dim  proportions.  It  was  something  that 


n6         THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

he  finally  discovered  stirred  them  to  the  depths  of  their 
being. 

"  What  ails  them?  "  he  asked  himself,  at  first.  "  It 
is  as  if  they  saw  things.  It  isn't  natural."  Slowly  he 
began  to  understand  what  they  saw,  what  they  felt. 
It  wasn't  a  dream;  it  was  a  faith  that  absorbed  them  — 
a  faith  in  their  own  greatness  and  a  conviction  that 
they  were  soon  to  be  called  to  prove  it  to  the  world,  to 
take  their  proper  place  at  the  head  of  nations. 
"  They're  crazy,"  he  told  himself  at  first,  "  or  I  am." 
But  later  he  began  to  see  with  them.  Was  it  not  the 
truth?  What  nation  on  earth  equaled  them  —  in  ef 
fective  action,  in  restraint,  in  fidelity,  in  valor,  in  big 
ness  of  vision?  What  other  nation  was  worthy  to  rule 
the  earth?  Certainly  not  England  —  she  was  soft, 
vain,  selfish  —  her  lands  in  the  hands  of  a  few,  her 
people  neglected,  her  government  rent  by  dissensions, 
her  colonies  self-governing  or  ready  for  revolt.  Eng 
land  certainly  had  lost  her  sense  and  her  genius  for 
empire. 

Not  France.  France  had  no  dream  of  empire,  no 
genius  for  empire;  she  was  content  to  stay  at  home. 
She  preferred  making  things  with  her  hands  to  making 
them  with  machines.  She  let  her  people  think  what 
they  would,  say  what  they  would.  France  had  every 
fault  of  that  futile,  impossible  thing  men  called  democ 
racy.  Certainly  not  France. 

He  saw  it  clearly,  finally,  as  a  thing  writ  on  the  walls 
of  heaven.  The  destiny  of  Germany  was  to  rule  the 
earth.  It  was  right  and  inevitable  that  she  should  do 
it  because  she  was  superior.  It  was  part  of  her  great 
ness  that  she  saw  her  destiny,  did  not  shrink  from  it, 
dared  openly  to  prepare  for  it,  to  educate  her  people 
for  it. 

Her  daring  thrilled  Otto  to  the  very  soul.  He  read 
Treitschke  finally.  Her  text  book.  He  saw  in  it  a 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          117 

notice  to  the  earth  that  her  master  was  here,  to  prepare 
to  receive  him.  It  was  an  open  notice  to  England,  to 
France,  to  make  way.  The  conqueror  was  coming. 
He  did  not  come  in  the  night.  He  taught  in  the  open 
of  his  approach  —  marshaled  his  armies  in  the  open  — 
built  his  ships  in  the  open. 

Otto  began  to  feel  an  overwhelming  contempt  for  the 
rest  of  Europe  —  that  it  should  not  understand  what 
was  writ  so  large  before  its  eyes,  that  it  should  touch 
shoulders  with  a  nation  that  for  years  had  carried  in 
its  heart  so  wondrous  and  magnificent  an  ambition,  that 
had  so  consistently  and  frankly  prepared  to  make  it 
real.  Time  they  were  put  in  their  place  —  particularly 
the  two,  France  and  England,  that  called  themselves  the 
best  the  world  has  done  so  far.  They  were  at  the  end 
of  their  string. 

His  conversion  was  no  half-hearted  affair.  Like 
alien  converts  the  world  over,  he  outdid  the  Germans 
in  the  ardor  of  his  faith,  in  his  contempt  of  opposition, 
and  he  felt  all  this  without  an  instant  of  waning  in  loy 
alty  to  his  own  country.  As  a  matter  of  fact  the  re 
lations  of  the  United  States  never  entered  his  mind. 
The  United  States  had  nothing  to  do  with  this.  Ger 
many  had  no  thought  of  her.  Germany  admitted  our 
claim  to  the  Western  Hemisphere  so  far  as  Otto's  ex 
perience  went.  Germany  in  South  America,  Germany 
in  Mexico  —  of  that  he  saw  and  knew  nothing.  His 
whole  mind  was  aflame  with  the  discovery  he  had  made. 
It  seemed  to  him  like  a  return  to  the  age  of  heroes, 
when  men  walked  grandly  and  rose  to  place  by  great 
deeds  of  valor  alone. 

He  had  come  back  to  the  United  States  in  1912,  but 
two  years  were  not  long  enough  even  to  dim  the  great 
conception  he  had  caught.  Indeed,  everything  in  the 
country  threw  into  higher  relief  the  superiority  of  Ger 
man  methods  and  justified  her  faith  in  her  destiny. 


n8          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

Sabinsport,  after  any  one  of  the  German  towns  of 
corresponding  size,  seemed  ugly,  unfinished,  disorderly. 
To  their  trim,  solid,  spotless  exterior  was  opposed  a 
straggling,  temporary,  half-cleaned  condition  in  at  least 
the  greater  part  of  the  town.  Instead  of  a  careful 
business  management  of  town  affairs,  by  men  trained 
as  they  would  have  been  for  bank  or  factory,  was  an 
absurd  political  system  of  choosing  men  for  offices. 
It  was  not  the  good  of  the  town  that  was  at  issue,  al 
though  both  sides  loudly  claimed  that  it  alone  con 
sidered  Sabinsport;  it  was  always  the  party,  with  the 
result  that  clever  men,  like  Mulligan  and  Cowder, 
practically  controlled  affairs. 

Otto  might,  six  years  before,  have  laughed  at  this 
ridiculous  method  of  running  a  town,  but  not  now. 
Germany  had  taught  him  to  be  serious  —  oh,  very  seri 
ous,  particularly  in  public  matters.  It  shamed  him 
that  his  home,  the  place  where  he  must  live  and  do  busi 
ness,  should  conduct  itself  in  this  crude  and  wasteful 
fashion. 

He  found  it  difficult  in  the  bank.  His  "  reforms  " 
were  disliked  —  his  father,  the  directors,  the  men  at 
the  books  and  the  windows,  clung  to  their  ways,  and 
their  ways  were  not,  in  his  judgment,  "  scientific/'  His 
father  laughed  at  his  impatience.  "  You  must  go  slow, 
Otto.  What  people  won't  willingly  do  because  they 
see  it  is  the  better,  cannot  succeed.  Perhaps  we're  not 
so  bad  as  you  think.  Admit  our  results  are  good." 

But  Otto  was  convinced  it  was  chance,  the  luck  of 
the  American,  not  any  sound  practice  that  had  brought 
the  bank  where  it  stood.  Then  constantly  there  was 
an  irritation  in  business,  a  resentment  that  they  would 
not  see  and  admit  the  superiority  of  the  practices  he 
would  introduce. 

The  social  life  bored  him,  or  rather  the  lack  of  it. 
There  was  no  provision  for  daily  natural  mixing  with 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          119 

one's  friends  —  no  coffee  hour,  no  beer  garden,  no 
music.  He  resented  the  indifference  to  the  friendly  side 
of  life.  He  criticized  resentfully  the  habit  of  regard 
ing  pleasure  as  something  to  be  bought  with  money  — 
the  inability  to  get  it  without  spending.  Indeed,  Otto 
felt  a  thorough  and  rather  bitter  disgust  at  the  place 
money  held  in  Sabinsport.  She  regarded  it,  he  felt, 
as  an  end.  Getting  it  was  the  chief  thing  with  which 
men's  minds  were  occupied.  They  seemed  never  to 
think  of  public  affairs  except  in  terms  of  business,  and 
of  very  personal  business,  too. 

But,  in  spite  of  this  preoccupation  with  money-get 
ting,  they  did  not,  after  all,  respect  money.  They 
flung  it  about,  toyed  with  it,  used  it  for  uncertain 
schemes,  wild  ventures,  took  it  for  their  costly  and 
reckless  pleasures.  Rarely  would  you  find  a  German 
treating  money  with  such  carelessness,  such  contempt. 
It  would  seem  as  if  the  thing  everybody  sought  was  not 
worth  keeping  when  won.  Otto  hated  this.  A  Ger 
man  knew  the  value  of  money  —  his  countrymen  did 
not.  And  the  few  who  did  and  hoarded  it,  refused  to 
risk  it  —  they  seemed  to  receive  no  such  respect  from 
the  people  as  the  open-handed.  It  was  incomprehensi 
ble  —  the  American  and  his  money. 

But  that  which  combined  to  make  life  in  Sabinsport 
most  barren  and  flat  to  Otto  was  his  feeling  that  there 
was  no  greatness,  no  sense  of  a  magnificent  and  mys 
terious  future  coming  to  the  country.  The  people  were 
not  working  toward  a  definite  national  thing.  Men 
and  women  seemed  to  think  of  nothing  more  magnifi 
cent  than  to  gather  and  spend  wealth.  The  idea  of 
subordinating  a  personal  aim  for  a  national  aim,  the 
thing  which  so  dignified  German  earning,  saving  and 
spending,  was  unheard  of  here.  Here  you  lived  for 
yourself,  not  for  your  nation. 

"  America  is  not  a  nation,"  he  told  his  father;  "  it's 


120          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

a  place  where  great  numbers  of  people,  largely  because 
of  a  happy  chance  which  probably  can  never  happen 
again  in  the  world's  history,  exercise  just  enough  con 
trol  of  themselves  to  enable  them  to  live  completely 
selfish  lives  and  they  save  themselves  any  slight  re 
morse  they  might  feel  for  this  selfishness  by  somehow 
convincing  themselves  that  they  are  demonstrating  the 
superiority  of  individual  liberty.  And  what  you  are 
getting  in  America  is  an  undisciplined,  self-satisfied 
people,  more  and  more  incapable  of  thinking  itself 
wrong,  more  and  more  incapable  of  wanting  anything 
but  to  be  let  alone  in  smug  comfort.  It  is  not  a  na 
tion,  I  tell  you,  Father,"  Otto  would  say.  "  A  nation 
must  have  a  single,  glorious  aim." 

And  the  old  man  would  wring  his  hands  and  say, 
"  You  don't  understand,  Otto."  And  sometimes,  walk 
ing  up  and  down,  would  repeat  the  story  of  the  inci 
dent  which  had  led  Otto's  grandfather  to  join  the 
Revolution  of  1848  and  had  brought  the  family  finally 
to  America. 

It  was  not  an  unusual  incident.  He  was  a  soldier  in 
training,  and  one  morning  in  drilling  his  gun  slipped 
and  came  down  as  they  stood  at  "  Attention."  The 
officer  in  charge  sprang  at  him  with  a  savage  oath  and 
cut  him  with  his  sword  across  the  face  so  that  the  blood 
ran  in  streams  over  his  uniform.  Rupert  Littman  fin 
ished  the  drill  and  that  evening  joined  the  party  of 
young  revolutionists,  suffered  with  them  defeat,  was 
imprisoned,  escaped,  and,  as  has  been  told,  in  1850 
came  to  this  country. 

"  You  don't  understand,  Otto.  You  look  only  at 
the  outside.  It's  empire  they  think  of  over  there;  it's 
liberty  here.  An  empire  with  an  autocrat  at  the  head, 
even  a  half-way  one,  may  be  orderly.  Liberty  is  apt 
to  look  pretty  untidy  and  mixed  up  in  comparison,  I 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          121 

know,  Otto.  But  don't  make  any  mistake;  a  country 
that  has  set  out  like  this  one  of  ours  to  show  that  all 
men  that  come  to  its  shores  are  free,  that  never  for  a 
moment  has  dreamed  of  ruling  other  peoples,  asks 
nothing  of  newcomers  but  that  they  don't  interfere 
with  other  people's  freedom.  Oh,  that  country  may 
not  look  as  trim  on  the  outside  as  Germany,  its  people 
may  not  spend  their  money  as  sensibly  —  probably  they 
don't;  and  I  know  we  think  a  good  deal  more  about 
our  own  affairs  than  about  public  affairs;  but  don't 
you  get  it  into  your  head  that  we're  not  a  nation  and 
have  no  central  enthusiasm.  If  it  came  to  the  test  I 
imagine  you  would  find  that  the  right  of  every  man  to 
mind  his  own  business  and  of  every  nation  to  do  the 
same,  would  make  a  pretty  strong  tie  in  the  United 
States.  You  would  see,  if  it  came  to  a  test,  that  we 
have  a  core  over  here." 

'Words,  Father,  words;  you've  talked  this  demo 
cratic  patter  so  long  you  think  it  means  something.  A 
nation  must  have  a  visible  expression  of  power  to  be 
great  and  feel  great.  She  must  have  an  army,  a  navy 
—  that  is  what  makes  a  nation  feel  great." 

But  Rupert  Littman  shook  his  head.  "  You  don't 
understand,  Otto,  you  don't  understand."  And  Otto 
didn't  understand,  and  Sabinsport  continued  to  irritate 
and  humiliate  him. 

The  war  coming  when  he  was  still  in  this  mood 
aroused  his  enthusiasm.  Now  the  world  would  have 
a  demonstration  of  what  greatness  in  a  nation  meant. 
They  would  see  again  on  earth  a  real  empire  rise.  So 
filled  was  Otto  with  this  sense  of  the  magnificence  of 
German  destiny,  he  felt  no  criticism  for  anything  that 
Germany  could  do,  no  doubt  of  anything  she  said.  If 
she  invaded  Belgium  it  was  because  France  was  already 
about  to  do  so,  and  she  beat  her  to  it.  If  she  burned 


122          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

Louvain,  it  was  for  the  unanswerable  reasons  that  the 
Emperor  himself  condescended  to  give  to  the  Ameri 
can  people. 

His  exultation,  naturally  enough,  made  him  resent 
the  almost  universal  sympathy  for  heroic  little  Belgium. 
He  resented  the  something  like  contempt  for  forcing  the 
war  —  for  all  Sabinsport  seemed  to  take  it  for  granted 
that  Germany  had  started  it.  What  right,  he  asked 
himself  hotly,  have  a  lot  of  yokels  like  these  —  people 
who  know  nothing  —  nothing  of  the  aspirations  of  a 
great  nation,  a  nation  with  a  genius  for  empire  —  peo 
ple  who  can  hardly  name  the  countries  of  Europe  and 
couldn't,  for  the  life  of  them,  tell  where  the  Balkans 
are  —  what  right  have  they  to  an  opinion?  He  was 
outraged  at  the  fact  that  everybody  had  an  opinion  and 
had  no  hesitation  in  giving  it.  The  very  barber  and 
bootblack  cursed  at  the  Kaiser.  Nothing  better 
showed  the  way  Otto  had  gone  than  the  impulse  he 
felt  to  have  them  both  arrested.  His  only  consolation 
in  the  town  was  Ralph,  who  did  appreciate  the  social 
efficiency  of  Germany  though  he  flatly  denied  any  com 
prehension  of  what  Otto  meant  when  he  talked  of  Ger 
man  destiny. 

It  was  natural  enough  that  Otto  should  have  eagerly 
welcomed  the  opportunity  to  help  turn  public  opinion 
in  America  against  England  and  toward  Germany, 
which  came  to  him  early  in  the  fall  of  1914.  Germany 
was  unquestionably  troubled  by  the  judgment  against 
her.  She  saw  that  the  United  States  held  her  re 
sponsible  for  starting  the  war  and  was  horrified  by  her 
first  stroke.  This  would  never  do.  Agents  were  at 
once  sent  out  to  take  advantage  of  every  conceivable 
opportunity  to  make  the  American  think  as  he  ought 
about  these  things  —  that  is,  to  think  as  Germany 
thought. 

The  country  filled  up  with  them.     One  who  traveled 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          123 

much  in  the  fall  and  winter  of  1914  and  1915  met 
them  on  the  trains,  in  hotels  —  big,  blond,  mustached 
persons  with  the  air  of  the  superman.  One  of  their 
objects  was  to  enlist  quietly  the  aid  of  German-Ameri 
can  citizens  of  position  and  education  who  had  seen 
enough  of  Germany  to  understand  and  sympathize  with 
her  aspirations.  There  were  many  of  the  second  or 
third  generations  who  had  had  experiences  similar  to 
Otto's,  who  felt  as  he  did  and  who  believed  that  in 
interpreting  Germany  to  the  United  States  they  were 
serving  their  country. 

Otto  was  one  of  the  first  of  these  young  men  ap 
proached.  His  vanity  was  deeply  flattered.  To  be 
invited  into  great  affairs,  to  be  asked  to  help  with  a 
campaign  important  to  the  Empire,  to  serve  his  own 
land  at  the  same  time  by  helping  to  set  her  right  — 
what  an  opening!  He  promised  his  full  and  loyal 
service.  He  asked  only  to  be  used. 

The  first  service  asked  of  him  was  to  secure  full 
information  about  the  munition  making  in  the  district 
of  which  Sabinsport  was  an  important  point,  and  to 
place  in  every  plant  as  many  of  the  men  which  would 
be  sent  to  him  as  he  could  without  attracting  attention. 
He  easily  and  naturally  enough  carried  out  the  com 
mission,  and  he  did  it  without  compunction.  It  seemed 
plausible  and  proper  enough  to  him  that  Germany 
should  inform  herself  about  the  chances  of  the  Allies 
supplying  themselves  with  munitions,  and  he  admired 
the  care  she  took  to  get  accurate  information.  So 
far  as  Otto  was  concerned,  this  was  all  there  was  in  the 
matter.  \ 

The  campaign  against  selling  munitions,  which  was 
started  in  the  winter  and  spring  of  1915,  tickled  him 
enormously.  Clever  —  what  could  be  more  clever 
than  using  this  absurd  obsession  of  a  few  pacifists  to 
prevent  her  enemy  from  getting  shells  and  shrapnel! 


i24          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

Germany  stirring  up  sentiment  against  war-weapons 
to  weaken  her  opponent !  That  was  humor  —  great 
humor.  And  Otto  went  into  the  campaign  with  gusto, 
working  quietly  through  the  men  he  had  placed  in  the 
plant  at  Sabinsport,  particularly  Max  Dalberg;  work 
ing  through  unseeing  Ralph,  working  in  a  dozen  towns 
where  he  had  business  and  social  relations.  His  at 
titude  was  strictly  correct.  We  were  neutral.  Why 
should  we  preach  neutrality  and  make  for  one  antago 
nist  what  circumstances  made  it  impossible  to  make  for 
another?  We  must  treat  all  alike.  The  campaign 
took  hold.  The  workingmen  favored  it.  Otto  was 
greatly  pleased.  That  much  money  was  being  used 
in  sending  around  speakers,  in  circulating  documents, 
in  advertising,  in  establishing  newspaper  and  periodical 
organs,  he  vaguely  knew.  It  was  all  right.  You  must 
get  the  ear  of  the  public.  Why  not? 

The  only  serious  rebuff  Otto  had  in  the  early  months 
of  his  propaganda  was  when  he  attempted  to  con 
tract  with  Cowder  and  with  other  manufacturers  for 
their  output.  He  was  amazed  and  incensed  at  their 
attitude.  They  treated  the  suggestion  that  they  sell  to 
"  Sweden  "  as  an  insult.  It  was  this  attitude,  so  hos 
tile  to  Germany,  that  had  made  him  completely  lose 
his  control  with  Cowder.  It  had  been  unbearable; 
this  contempt,  this  resentment  at  the  suggestion.  He 
had  felt  that  he  was  defending  Germany  when  he  raised 
his  hand.  His  controlled  and  adroit  companion  had 
criticized  him  severely,  "  You'll  give  the  game  away, 
Littman,  if  you  lose  your  temper  like  that." 

But  Otto  had  replied  hotly,  "Give  it  away!  It's 
a  fair  game.  I  believe  in  what  I'm  doing.  It's  war 
and  fair  enough.  What  I  can't  tolerate  is  the  hy 
pocrisy  of  the  American  attitude.  To  pretend  to  be 
neutral  and  act  as  if  you  were  insulted  when  it  is  sug 
gested  to  you  that  you  sell  something  so  it  will  get  to 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          125 

Germany  as  well  as  to  England.  To  pretend  to  be 
neutral  and  to  be  concerned  only  with  their  rights,  and 
yet  tolerate  with  indifference  England's  violations  and 
rage  against  Germany's." 

"  Well,  they  mustn't  complain  if  we  use  stronger 
arguments.  If  they  can't  make  good  the  neutrality 
they  preach,  we'll  have  to  see  what  a  little  force  will 
do." 

"  What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Otto,  sharply. 
"  You  can't  force  the  United  States." 

"  The  hell  we  can't,"  was  all  his  chief  answered. 

The  reply  had  made  no  deep  impression  on  Otto 
then.  He  remembered  it  now.  He  remembered  how 
this  hint  had  recurred  as  he  talked  with  the  German 
agents  in  the  different  places  where  he  had  met  them. 
After  the  Washington  fiasco,  bursting  completely  the 
party  for  which  he  had  labored  so  faithfully,  this 
threat  came  back  to  him  more  often.  It  made  him 
anxious.  It  was  in  the  back  of  his  mind  when  he 
flared  at  Max  and  brought  upon  his  head  the  taunt 
that  humiliated  and  alarmed  him.  What  if  they  car 
ried  it  out  —  these  explosions  that  they  threatened  — 
how  could  he  escape  complicity?  He  could  refuse  to 
help,  but  what  good  would  that  do  if  he  was  accused. 
It  was  a  very  unhappy  young  diplomat  that  laid  his 
head  on  the  pillow  that  night  —  one  thoroughly  dis 
illusioned  with  great  affairs. 

The  succeeding  months  made  him  more  unhappy. 
Sabinsport  mistrusted  him,  and  he  was  made  to  feel  it. 
In  the  business  life  of  the  town  where  he  had  been 
treated  with  deference  there  was  a  withdrawal,  hard 
to  define  but  very  real  to  Otto.  Again  and  again  when 
he  entered  an  office  or  room  men  stopped  talking. 
There  was  a  restraint  at  the  War  Board  —  the  one 
group  in  the  town  which  had  always  listened  with 
eagerness,  whether  to  outlandish  theories  and  gossip 


126          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

or  to  sensible  argument  and  unquestioned  fact.  Why 
should  the  War  Board  harbor  suspicions  of  him?  Did 
the  War  Board  care? 

Ralph,  who  had  been  his  willing  listener,  was 
changed,  it  seemed  to  him.  After  the  downfall  of 
Labor's  National  Peace  Council,  he  put  the  question 
bluntly  to  Otto:  "  Did  you  know  that  it  was  German 
money  that  was  backing  up  the  munition  and  pacifist 
campaign?"  Otto  hesitated.  "Never  mind,"  said 
Ralph,  convinced,  "  but  you  must  see  that  is  a  kind  of 
thing  not  done,  Otto.  Embroiling  us  with  England 
when  we're  trying  to  keep  out  of  the  scrap  is  the  work 
of  a  sneak.  You  know  why  I  threw  the  Argus  to  the 
party.  It  was  because  I  believed  it  an  honest  Ameri 
can  effort  to  combat  militarism  in  the  United  States,  to 
stop  the  making  and  selling  of  munitions.  Do  you 
suppose  I  would  have  taken  any  stock  in  a  German 
effort  to  stop  munition  making  here?  It's  a  scream  — 
Germany  spending  money  in  such  a  cause  while  she's 
using  Belgium's  guns  and  running  her  factories  night 
and  day  making  munitions !  I'm  with  you  in  any  frank 
effort  to  make  people  understand  Germany  better.  I 
begin  to  think,  Otto,  that  this  business  makes  me  un 
derstand  Germany  better  than  anything  that  has  hap 
pened.  You  may  be  sure  I'll  look  twice  hereafter  at 
things  made-in-Germany,  particularly  ideas.  I  don't 
like  this  business,  Otto,  and  I  have  to  say  so." 

And  Otto  could  find  few  words  to  defend  the  cam 
paign  —  though  he  had  been  able  to  do  it  so  volubly 
and  confidently  to  himself. 

But  it  was  with  his  father  that  the  great  strain  came 
—  his  father  who  was  watching  him  with  eyes  in  which 
love,  agony  and  anger  disputed  place,  and  neither  of 
them  could  speak.  He  might  try,  as  he  did,  to  cut  off 
gradually  all  relations  with  the  plotters,  for  now  he 
called  them  so  to  himself.  He  might,  as  he  did,  see 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          127 

more  and  more  clearly  that  Germany  was  trying  to 
embroil  the  United  States  with  Mexico.  He  might 
feel  that  he  could  put  his  finger  on  the  human  cause  of 
half  the  explosions  in  the  country,  but  he  dared  not 
speak,  for  to  speak  would,  he  felt,  throw  him  into  the 
hands  of  the  secret  service  with  documentary  evidence 
enough  at  least  to  cause  his  imprisonment  —  these  let 
ters  of  his,  so  full  of  admiration  for  the  country  which 
he  realized  every  day  now  was  steadily  marching  into 
war  with  his  own  country. 

The  war  had  brought  to  no  one  in  Sabinsport  so  far 
as  great  humiliation  and  wretchedness  as  to  this  dab 
bler  in  world  politics.  No  small  part  of  his  misery 
was  due  to  his  fear  that  the  suspicion  abroad  in  Sabins 
port  would  find  its  way  overseas  to  the  one  girl  in  the 
world  for  whom  he  had  ever  really  cared.  Would  the 
intangible  thing  which  followed  him  in  the  street  find 
Nancy  Cowder  in  Serbia  and  poison  her  loyal  and 
honest  mind  against  him?  He  had  many  reasons  for 
knowing  how  candidly  she  weighed  things.  Would 
she  be  misled  by  gossip  and  the  letters  he'dl  been  send 
ing  her,  so  full  of  his  own  importance  in  the  great 
work  of  making  America  understand  Germany? 
Would  Nancy  say,  like  Ralph,  "  All  this  does  make 
me  understand  Germany  better,  Otto"?  He  had  an 
awful  fear  of  it.  The  only  consolation  was  his  cer 
tainty  that  she  had  no  other  Sabinsport  correspondent 
but  her  father,  and  it  was  unthinkable  that  her  father 
would  write  of  their  quarrel  over  the  munitions  con 
tract, 


CHAPTER  V 

OTTO  LITTMAN  was  quite  right  in  thinking 
that  Reuben  Cowder  would  not  write  his  daugh 
ter  about  their  quarrel.  People  might  say  what 
they  would  of  Reuben  Cowder's  business  methods,  but 
he  never  hit  below  the  belt.  Moreover,  he  was  too 
wise  to  attempt  to  influence  the  likes  or  dislikes  of  his 
spirited  daughter.  He  had  too  great  faith  in  the 
soundness  of  her  instincts.  However  deeply  she  might 
be  interested  in  Otto  —  and  he  feared  it  was  deep  in 
deed  —  he  was  confident  that  she  would  instinctively 
know  whether  he  was  loyal;  and,  of  course,  while  she 
was  in  Serbia,  there  was  no  danger.  He  was  quite 
right.  Nancy  was  reading  between  the  lines  of  Otto 
Littman's  letters,  and  sensing  far  better  than  any  one 
in  Sabinsport  the  motives  which  had  involved  him  in 
the  German  intriguing.  Besides,  she  was  wholly  oc 
cupied  with  her  work. 

Dick  realized,  better  even  than  Reuben  Cowder, 
how  the  sorrows  that  she  had  undertaken  to  relieve 
absorbed  her.  He  was  getting  better  and  better  ac 
quainted  with  the  young  woman  in  these  days,  for  it 
came  to  be  Reuben  Cowder's  habit,  since  his  first  talk 
with  Dick,  to  bring  him  regularly  her  letters.  Some 
times  he  dropped  into  Dick's  study  at  night,  sometimes 
he  picked  him  up  as  he  drove  by  in  his  car  or  stopped 
him  as  he  met  him  on  the  street;  and  always  Dick  found 
that  his  reason  was  the  need  he  had  of  talking  about  his 
girl.  ^Evidently  he  talked  to  no  one  else,  for  nobody 
in  Sabinsport  knew  any  of  the  details  of  the  terrible  ex 
periences  these  months  had  brought  Nancy  Cowder  or 
anything  of  the  hell  of  torment  her  father  had  gone 

128 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          129 

through.  Dick  himself  never  mentioned  her  name, 
sensing  that,  at  the  first  hint  the  hard  old  man  had 
that  he  had  talked,  his  confidence  would  be  silenced. 
Reuben  Cowder  had  a  terrible  resentment  against  Sab- 
insport  society  because  it  misjudged  his  daughter. 
Sabinsport  should  never  know  of  her  from  him,  should 
not  have  the  stupid  satisfaction  of  rolling  over  her 
splendid  service  with  idle  tongue,  and  Sabinsport  did 
not  know  more  than  that  the  girl  had  been  in  Serbia 
throughout  the  bitter  months  after  the  second  invasion 
and  repulse. 

Dick  knew  the  tragic  story  in  spots,  and,  by  his 
knowledge  of  the  country  and  his  careful  reading  of 
every  scrap  of  news  the  leading  journals  of  the  world 
gave  him,  had  pieced  it  into  a  whole.  He  saved  every 
item  he  read  to  talk  over  with  Cowder,  and  every  day 
that  he  built  up  the  story  he  unconsciously  became  more 
deeply  involved.  "  The  courage  of  the  creature,"  he 
said  to  himself;  "  the  gentleness,  the  gayety,  the  pity  — 
why,  she's  a  wonder  woman.  Who  could  have  guessed 
it  from  the  gossip  of  this  benighted  town?  " 

And  as  a  truth,  Nancy  Cowder  deserved  all  Dick  was 
attributing  to  her.  She  was  showing  the  qualities  of  a 
great,  pitying,  resourceful  soul,  naturally  and  quietly 
giving  its  life  to  ease  the  boundless  misery  of  a  brave 
and  neglected  little  people. 

She  had  first  entered  the  country  in  1914,  stirred  to 
the  undertaking  by  the  reports  of  the  plight  of  the  sick 
and  wounded  after  the  Austro-Hungarian  invasions. 
Things  in  Serbia,  indeed,  were  in  a  frightful  way.  Ex 
hausted  by  two  recent  wars,  her  hospitals,  never  many, 
stripped  of  supplies,  her  few  physicians  and  nurses 
worn  out  by  the  long  strain  through  which  they  had 
been  going,  the  country  could  scarce  have  been  in  a 
worse  condition  to  stand  a  new  shock.  She,  to  be  sure, 
repulsed  her  enemy,  but  the  repulse  cost  a  frightful 


130          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

price  of  dead  and  mutilated.  Who  shall  ever  have  the 
courage  to  tell  of  the  savage  cruelties  that  attended  the 
retreat  of  the  Austro-Hungarian  army  from  Serbia  in 
the  fall  of  1914?  Those  who  followed  after  found 
men  hanging  in  orchards,  dead;  women  huddled  in 
heaps  where  they'd  been  felled,  the  hideous  first  step 
in  that  decision  to  exterminate  the  Serbian  people, 
which  the  Central  Empires  had  taken. 

It  was  a  heart-breaking  story  that  reached  Nancy 
Cowder  from  an  English  official  summoned  home  by 
the  war.  Her  decision  was  immediate:  "I'll  go, 
there  is  need  there.  All  the  world  will  care  for  Bel 
gium,"  and  for  a  month  she  worked  with  her  English 
friend,  Betty  Barstow,  to  get  together  a  unit  of  a  half- 
dozen  women.  The  result  was  two  physicians,  two 
nurses,  one  chauffeur  and  one  "  general  utility  man,"  as 
Nancy  called  herself.  They  moved  heaven  and  earth 
to  raise  money,  collect  supplies  and  secure  such  recogni 
tion  from  the  English  and  French  governments  as 
would  give  their  unofficial  and  volunteer  caravan  a 
standing  before  the  Serbian  authorities.  They  had 
little  need  of  passports.  A  woman  with  surgical 
dressings  in  one  hand  and  food  in  the  other  was  wel 
comed  as  an  angel  from  heaven  by  Serbians  in  those 
stricken  days. 

Nancy's  party  had  gone  into  the  country  by  Salonika, 
a  city  overflowing  with  the  excited  travelers  of  half  the 
world.  From  there  they  had  made  their  way  to  Va- 
lievo,  a  little  town  north  of  the  center  of  Serbia,  the 
terminus  of  a  narrow  gauge  railroad  which  runs  east 
ward  connecting  with  the  main  line  between  Salonika 
and  Belgrade.  It  was  over  this  single  track,  with  its 
dwarf  engine  and  cars,  that  the  soldiery  of  all  Central 
Serbia  was  traveling  —  with  their  supplies,  their 
wounded  and  their  sick.  Since  the  terrific  fighting 
along  the  Save  and  the  Dwina,  wounded  Serbs  and 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          131 

Austrians  had  been  pouring  into  Valievo.  Refugees 
had  followed  them.  The  little  narrow-gauge  railroad 
could  not  cope  with  this  mass  of  misery.  It  had  car 
ried  away  what  it  could  but  numbers  had  been  left  be 
hind. 

Late  in  1914  these  six  young  and  intrepid  Samaritans 
arrived  with  bags,  boxes  of  bandages,  cordials  and  med 
icines  —  and  more  to  follow.  They  had  planned  to 
find  a  little  house  on  one  of  the  green  hillsides,  to  make 
it  a  home,  and  from  there  to  go  day  by  day  among  the 
people;  and  thus  they  started. 

The  little  house  was  not  hard  to  find.  It  looked  out 
over  the  valley  with  its  red-tiled  roof  and  its  suggestion 
of  a  distant  time  when  the  Turks  were  in  the  country 
as  conquerors  and  built  houses  with  overhanging  eaves 
and  trellised  windows.  It  was  from  this  little  house 
that  they  started  out  for  their  work  in  what  was  then 
one  of  the  most  pitiable  spots  of  all  the  many  —  oh,  so 
many  —  on  an  earth  which  lifts  a  friendly  face  to  man 
and  begs  of  him  to  take  of  its  fruits  in  peace  and  in 
content. 

Their  first  day's  work  had  brought  them  back,  white 
and  anguished.  What  were  they  in  all  this  thing?  It 
w^as  sweeping  back  the  waves  of  the  sea  with  a  broom, 
dipping  it  dry  with  a  teaspoon,  as  they  told  one  another. 
And  so,  indeed,  it  seemed  at  first  sight.  Valievo  was 
one  big  hospital  —  its  schoolrooms,  public  halls, 
churches,  cafes,  had  been  turned  into  wards  —  and  such 
wards  I  The  only  beds  were  piles  of  straw  on  the  floor. 
The  only  utensils  the  helter-skelter  articles  the  doctors 
and  nurses  could  pick  up.  And  to  meet  this  misery, 
there  were  just  six  doctors !  Everything  that  they 
could  do  they  had  done  to  bring  something  like  order 
and  cleanliness  into  the  situation,  but  it  was  a  task 
manifold  beyond  the  most  tremendous  effort  of  which 
they  were  capable.  Hundreds  of  wounded  men  lay  for 


132          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

days  on  their  straw  beds  unattended  save  for  some 
rude  first  aid  —  and  always  lumbering  ox-carts  were 
jolting  over  the  cobbled  streets  bringing  from  the  hills 
more  and  more  victims. 

The  condition  was  so  shocking  that  Nancy  and  her 
friends  cringed  in  horror  at  the  sights  and  in  despair 
at  their  own  inadequacy.  Yet  what  they  could  do  they 
would.  From  daylight  to  dark  they  went  from  one 
group  to  another,  cleansing  and  dressing  wounds, 
changing  straw  often  stiff  with  blood  and  filth,  fumigat 
ing  garments,  letting  in  fresh  air,  furnishing  nourishing 
food,  doing  a  thousand  little  things  to  improve  the 
conditions  and  to  simplify  the  care  of  the  stricken 
groups. 

Regularly  every  week  Nancy  Cowder  had  written 
her  father  and  she  had  taken  always  the  greatest  care 
possible  that  the  letters  got  out.  More  than  once  she 
had  sent  a  messenger  with  them  to  Nish  or  Belgrade. 
Because  of  this  precaution,  he  had  received  with  fair 
regularity  news  of  her  life  and  health  for  the  past 
twelve  months  —  and  such  wonderful  letters  as  she 
wrote ;  the  first  appalled  cry  at  the  suffering  —  suffering 
so  out  of  proportion  to  their  puny  efforts  —  was  never 
repeated.  The  girl  had  plunged  into  steady  work,  and 
it  was  of  what  they  did  that  she  wrote  —  letters  often 
actually  gay  in  their  triumph  over  their  difficulties. 
They  had  not,  to  begin  with,  the  commonest  articles ; 
basins,  bed  clothing,  shirts.  It  took  the  most  deter 
mined  and  continued  efforts  to  supply  themselves,  but 
they  never  were  discouraged,  never  downcast. 

"  Oh,  Father,  if  you  knew  what  we  do  without. 
Nothing  matters,  we  know,  if  we  can  keep  them  clean 
and  warm  and  fed.  Straw  on  the  floor  doesn't  matter 
—  sheets  don't  matter,  spoons  and  bowls  don't  matter. 
It  takes  so  little  if  the  little  is  right.  We  wage  one 
long  campaign  to  get  things.  I  never  knew  how  won- 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          133 

derful  money  is  before.  You  mustn't  mind  if  I  spend 
a  great  deal  —  if  I  overdraw  —  if  I  cut  into  my  prin 
cipal.  There  couldn't  be  a  better  use  for  it.  If  it  all 
goes  I  can  work.  Why,  I  could  earn  my  living  as  a 
hospital  orderly  now,  Father.  You  ought  to  see  what 
I  can  do  —  what  I  do  do.  I  sweep  floors  and  change 
straw.  I  cook  and  clean  and  drive  nails.  I've  made 
what  we  call  bedsteads  with  my  own  hands  —  and 
proud  of  it!  I  never  knew  that  work  —  work  with 
one's  hands  —  could  be  so  good.  I  feel  as  if  I'd  just 
begun  to  live.  What  a  pity  that  it  takes  a  war  to  teach 
idlers  like  me  where  the  essence  of  life  is  found ! 

"  Don't  you  worry,  dear.  I  shall  come  back  to  you 
another  person,  and  I  shall  know  when  I  get  there  how 
much  of  real  life  there  is  to  be  had  in  Sabinsport." 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Reuben  Cowder. 

"  I  do,"  said  Dick. 

"If  she  will  only  come  back!"  groaned  Reuben 
Cowder. 

"  She  will,"  said  Dick. 

"  And  be  happy  here !     How  can  she  be?  " 

"  She's  discovering  Sabinsport  in  Serbia,"  said  Dick. 

"  She  can  have  all  the  money  I  have,"  said  Reuben 
Cowder. 

"  You  couldn't  do  better  with  it,"  said  Dick. 

Week  by  week  the  two  men  followed  the  work  of 
the  intrepid  group.  Nancy  was  exultant  over  so  many 
things !  The  redemption  of  a  forsaken  church  on  a 
hillside  turned  into  a  perfectly  good  sanitarium  for 
convalescents.  "  It  has  no  windows  left,  so  we  do 
have  air.  The  only  way  you  get  it  in  Serbia." 

The  wonderful  help  they  were  getting  from  the 
wounded  who  were  able  to  get  about  —  Austrian  and 
Serbian  —  who  built  them  incinerators,  mended  leaking 
roofs,  brought  wood  for  their  fireplaces,  scrubbed  and 
cooked  and  even  sewed.  "  We  have  a  class  in  mat- 


134          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

tress  making  —  such  a  funny,  funny  class.  There's  a 
poor  one-legged  Austrian  with  a  cough  which  will  carry 
him  off  soon,  once  an  upholsterer  in  Vienna.  He  has 
taught  us  all  here  to  make  strong,  comfortable  mat 
tresses.  I  went  myself  to  Nish  and  brought  all  the  tick 
ing  and  needles  and  thread  I  could  find." 

The  feat  over  which  Nancy  crowed  most,  to  which 
she  was  always  coming  back,  was  the  Water  Works. 
She  always  capitalized  the  words :  "  You  can  imagine, 
Father  dear,  how  weVe  been  handicaped  for  water. 
After  our  first  week  we  never  gave  our  patients  a  drink 
that  had  not  been  boiled  at  the  house.  We  hired  a 
stout  peasant  woman  —  there  were  no  men  to  be  had 
—  to  carry  it  —  two  buckets  full  on  an  ox-yoke !  She 
followed  us  from  place  to  place.  We  did  our  best  to 
make  the  sick  understand  how  dangerous  it  was  to  drink 
the  dreadful  water  used  in  Valievo.  We  didn't  suc 
ceed  very  well,  though  some  of  them  would  do  almost 
anything  to  please  us.  When  we  took  over  the  old 
church  we  were  put  to  it  for  water  at  first.  It  had  to  be 
carried  for  nearly  a  mile.  Then,  oh,  Happy  Day,  Dr. 
Helen  and  I  made  up  our  minds  there  must  be  water 
above  us  somewhere  and  we'd  find  it  and  pipe  it  down. 
We  found  a  perfectly  good,  bubbling  spring,  grown 
about  with  willows.  We  paid  the  owner  of  the  land 
his  price  for  the  water  and  I,  Father,  7,  your  spoiled, 
useless  daughter,  stood  over  three  crippled  Serbians 
while  they  cleaned  and  walled  that  spring  and  I,  / 
taught  them  how  to  make  a  trough  of  boards  to  bring  it 
to  the  house.  At  least  I  began  by  making  myself  a 
joint  of  the  wooden  trough  we  used  to  see  at  home  and 
when  they  understood  they  made  something  far  better. 
Now  it  flows,  cold  and  sweet  and  clear  into  the  sani 
tarium.  I'm  just  crazy  over  it." 

Nothing  stirred  Dick  or  alarmed  Reuben  Cowder 
more  than  the  long  fight  with  typhus,  which  began  late 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          135 

in  the  year  in  Serbia  —  and  lasted  through  the  winter. 
It  was  not  at  first  realized  that  the  peculiar  form  of  the 
disease  which  ravaged  the  country  was  carried  by  body 
lice,  but  where  it  was  known,  the  war  on  the  pests  which 
the  unit  had  always  waged  took  on  a  fury  and  an  inge 
nuity  worthy  of  the  enemy.  It  was  war,  war,  war. 
The  girls  shaved,  sulphurized  and  burned  from  morn 
ing  until  night.  They  isolated  tfie  incoming,  they  so 
frightened  their  patients  by  their  horror  at  a  single 
beastie  that  it  came  to  be  a  shame  and  a  crime  to  be 
caught  with  one.  And  they  conquered.  And  with  the 
conquest  typhus  slowly  retired  from  every  spot  in  which 
they  ruled.  Nancy  was  jubilant. 

'  We've  met  the  enemy  and  they  are  ours.  We  have 
a  new  National  Anthem  and  we  sing  it  daily.  Don't 
tell  it  to  the  Sabinsport  Woman's  Club.  It  would 
swoon  with  shock  —  but,  oh  Father,  if  you'd  seen  what 
we  have  seen  —  if  you  had  known  the  cause  and  if  you 
had  labored  and  sweat  day  and  night  for  weeks  to  re 
move  that  cause,  you  would  understand  why  we  sing 
what  we  do.  The  words  came  to  us  from  the  Berry 
unit  over  the  mountain  where  they,  too,  have  fought 
and  won  —  indeed  from  them  we  learned  the  danger 
and  the  way  to  meet  it.  Now  take  our  National  An 
them  straight,  Father: 

"  There  are  no  lice  on  us, 
There  are  no  lice  on  us, 

No  lice  on  us. 
There  may  be  one  or  two 
Great  big  fat  lice  on  you, 

No  LICE  ON  us." 

Reuben  Cowder  read  that  to  Dick  with  tears  run 
ning  down  his  cheeks. 

"  My  little  Nancy,"  he  said. 
She's  a  brave  lady,"  said  Dick. 


u 


136          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

The  spring  and  summer  came  and  went.  The  let 
ters  were  unfailingly  cheerful.  They  had  settled  down 
to  work.  With  the  end  of  the  fighting  and  the  conquest 
of  typhus  their  life  was  more  like  that  of  a  normal  hos 
pital.  If  primitive,  it  was  sufficient.  There  was  but 
one  exciting  episode.  It  came  in  one  of  the  spring  let 
ters. 

"  A  curious  thing  has  happened,  Father;  one  of  the 
strange  meetings  this  war  is  continually  bringing  about. 
A  week  ago  an  ox-cart  drove  in  from  the  north  with  a 
Serbian  wounded  months  ago  —  his  leg  had  been  ampu 
tated  —  sawed  off.  He  had  had  no  care  in  the  winter. 
He  had  had  typhus  somewhere  back  in  the  mountains. 
Friendly  peasants  had  tried  to  take  care  of  him,  but  he 
was  in  a  terrible  shape  —  no  flesh  —  just  a  spark  of  life 
left.  They  brought  him  finally  to  us  —  and  we  did  our 
best  of  course.  It's  strange  what  a  fury  to  save  seizes 
you  when  a  poor  shattered  thing  like  this  is  put  into  your 
hands.  You  fight  and  fight  —  and  won't  give  in,  and 
we  won  with  this  man,  but  I  don't  believe  we  would  if 
he  had  not  been  so  determined  to  live.  He  whispered 
it  to  one  of  the  girls,  speaking  for  the  first  time  days 
after  he  came,  whispered  in  perfectly  good  English,  '  I 
must  live.'  She  almost  turned  his  broth  over  him 
she  was  so  surprised.  It  was  strange  to  us  to  find  one 
like  that.  Most  of  them  are  so  done  they  don't  help 
—  just  lie  staring,  waiting  to  die,  and  only  asking  not  to 
be  touched.  I  have  seen  my  dogs  look  at  me  as  they  do 
when  they  were  dying.  Their  eyes  always  beg  that  you 
let  them  die  in  peace. 

"  Well,  he  grew  stronger,  and  when  he  was  able  to 
keep  his  eyes  open  they  never  left  me  when  I  was  in  the 
ward.  I  knew  there  was  something  he  wanted  to  say 
but  was  too  weak,  or  perhaps  his  poor  head  was  not 
yet  quite  clear.  It  was  as  if  he  knew  me.  And  that 
was  it,  Father.  He  did. 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          137 

"  One  day  when  he  was  better  he  called  me. 
'America?  '  he  said. 

"  '  Yes,'  I  told  him. 

"  '  Sabinsport?  ' 

"  '  What!  '  I  cried,  l  you  know  Sabinsport?  ' 

14 'Yes  —  my  wife,  children  there,  Miss  Cowder?' 

"  '  How  do  you  know?  ' 

u  *  I  saw  you  once,  at  the  Emma.' 

"  He  has  been  my  patient  from  that  hour,  and  if  I 
never  do  another  thing  in  Siberia  I  mean  to  get  him  on 
his  feet  and  take  him  back  to  Sabinsport.  As  soon  as 
you  get  this,  cable  if  his  family  is  there  and  well.  It 
will  help  so.  His  name  is  Nikola  Petrovitch." 

Reuben  Cowder  hurried  the  letter  to  Dick.  '  You 
know  the  man,  what  about  his  family?  " 

"Living  where  he  left  them  —  well  —  and  if  they 
know  he's  alive,  happy.  It's  been  months  since  they've 
had  news.  Stana  had  almost  lost  hope.  This  will  be 
wine  to  her.  May  I  tell  her  Miss  Cowder  is  nursing 
him?" 

The  old  man  gulped.  "  I  suppose,"  he  said,  "  it 
would  give  her  more  hope.  If  you  don't  mind,  I'll  go 
out  with  you.  If  Nancy  has  adopted  Nikola,  I  guess 
I'll  take  the  family."  And  so,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  Reuben  Cowder  entered  the  house  of  a  miner, 
bringing  glad  news  and  honest  sympathy. 

The  summer  of  1915  came  and  passed  slowly. 
News  came  regularly.  Nikola  was  gaining  strength, 
was  sitting  up;  they  had  made  him  crutches,  he  was 
learning  to  walk;  and  then,  in  September,  that  which 
gladdened  Reuben  Cowder's  sore  heart  as  he  had  not 
believed  it  ever  again  would  be  gladdened  —  Nikola 
could  take  care  of  himself  now.  Nancy  really  needed 
a  rest,  and  they  were  all  insisting  she  take  it.  They 
would  leave  Serbia  as  early  as  possible  in  October, 
couldn't  Reuben  Cowder  meet  then  in  London?  They 


138          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

would  cable  when  they  reached  Salonika,  and  he  would 
have  ample  time. 

It  was  wonderful  to  Dick  to  see  the  change  in  the 
man  with  the  coming  of  the  news.  His  silent  tongue 
was  loosened.  For  the  first  time  in  their  lives,  his  busi 
ness  friends  heard  him  talk  freely  of  his  daughter. 
For  the  first  time  Sabinsport  learned  in  details  of  what 
Nancy  Cowder  had  been  doing,  for  when  the  seal  he 
had  put  on  his  lips  was  broken  by  Reuben  Cowder's 
change  of  heart,  Dick  told  both  Patsy  and  Mary  Sabins 
the  story,  omitting  no  heroic  touch  and  cunningly  en 
larging  on  two  widely  separated  details  —  the  romantic 
discovery,  cure  and  expected  return  of  Nikola  Petro- 
vitch  and  the  continued  support  of  Nancy's  unit  by 
Lady  Barstow  and  her  circle  ! 

The  story  was  quickly  set  loose,  as  Dick  had  expected 
it  to  be.  The  Woman's  Club,  the  War  Board,  all 
High  Town  seized  it  as  one  more  personal  connection 
with  the  Great  War.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  the  location 
of  Serbia  on  the  map  of  Europe  had  never  been  known 
to  the  tenth  of  one  per  cent,  of  Sabinsport  up  to  the  day 
that  Dick  confided  the  adventures  of  Nancy  Cowder  in 
that  land  to  Patsy  McCullon  and  Mary  Sabins;  but 
before  a  week  had  passed  the  library  had  it  penciled  in 
blue  on  a  fresh  outline  map,  with  Valievo  marked  prob 
ably  within  fifty  miles  of  the  true  location,  but  quite  as 
exact  as  the  maps  which  amateur  cartographers  of  the 
press  were  publishing;  the  Woman's  Club  had  engaged 
a  lecturer  to  tell  it  what  he  knew  of  Serbia ;  a  subscrip 
tion  had  been  started,  and  in  the  alley  on  the  South 
Side  Jimmy  Flannigan's  goat  had  been  harnessed  to 
Benny  Katz'  two-wheeled  cart,  and  Reuben  Cowder, 
coming  through  as  usual,  found  the  gang  in  white 
paper  caps,  marked  with  a  crayon  red  cross,  receiving 
Nick  Brown  who,  limp  and  groaning,  was  impersonat 
ing  Nikola  Petrovitch  s  first  appearance  at  the  Valievo 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          139 

sanitarium.  Here  again  it  was  Jimmy  Flannigan's  big 
brother  who,  listening  to  Patsy  at  high  school,  had  in 
spired  the  play. 

The  keenest  interest  was  taken  in  Reuben  Cowder's 
trip  —  for  of  course  he  was  going.  He  was  settling 
things  for  as  long  an  absence  as  necessary,  doing  it  fev 
erishly,  joyfully  —  he  who  had  always  stuck  night  and 
day  at  his  post  and  grumbled  at  every  business  trip  that 
he  could  not  escape.  He  would  be  ready  to  start  as 
soon  as  the  cablegram  came;  Nancy  had  said  early  in 
October. 

But  October  came.  The  first  week  passed  —  and 
no  cablegram.  The  second  week,  and  none.  And 
then  there  fell  on  Reuben  Cowder  with  crushing  force 
the  news  of  the  second  invasion  of  Serbia.  From  north 
and  west  came  the  Austro-Hungarians  —  from  the  west 
the  Bulgars  —  hordes  of  them.  This  time  there  was 
to  be  no  mistake.  Serbia  was  not  merely  to  be  con 
quered;  she  was  to  be  crushed,  and  the  remnants  swept 
into  the  sea. 

The  suddenness,  the  mass,  the  extent  of  the  attack, 
left  no  doubt  in  Reuben  Cowder's  mind  that  whatever 
Serbia's  fate  might  be  —  and  that  was  as  nothing  to 
him  —  Nancy  had  been  trapped.  Unless  she  had 
reached  Salonika  before  the  advance,  she'd  have  hardly 
a  shadow  of  a  chance.  And  he  told  himself,  too,  that 
if  she  saw  need,  she  would  not  leave.  His  forebodings 
were  so  black  that  Dick  urged  him  to  go  at  once  to  Lon 
don,  as  he  had  planned,  not  waiting  for  a  cablegram : 
"  I  will  send  it  when  it  comes.  You'll  be  there  to  greet 
her  when  she  does  get  out.  If  she  doesn't  come,  try 
to  arrange  to  go  to  Serbia  yourself." 

And  it  was  on  this  advice  that  late  in  the  month  Reu 
ben  Cowder  acted.  Before  sailing,  he  had  in  Washing 
ton  used  every  official  channel  to  get  information  of  his 
daughter,  but  to  no  avail.  When  it  seemed  certain 


140          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

that  for  the  time  being  —  and  he  was  everywhere  as 
sured  it  was  only  for  "  the  time  being  " —  that  he  could 
not  get  news,  he  sailed,  having  first  made  elaborate 
arrangements  with  Dick  about  informing  him  if  any 
thing  was  heard. 

By  the  time  he  reached  London,  the  completeness  of 
the  disaster  to  Serbia  was  known.  Her  armies  had 
been  defeated  on  every  side  —  they,  and  practically  the 
entire  population,  were  in  retreat;  had  embarked  for 
Corfu.  For  the  moment  the  little  island  held  the  only 
organized  remnant  of  the  Serbian  nation. 

From  time  to  time  news  came  of  this  or  that  group 
of  nurses  or  doctors  who  had  joined  the  retreat,  had 
been  taken  prisoner,  or  on  their  own  had  reached  safe 
ty;  but  Reuben  Cowder  could  get  no  clew  to  Nancy's 
whereabouts,  though  he  worked  day  and  night,  inter 
viewing  every  returning  soldier  or  civilian  of  whom  he 
heard,  sending  agents  to  Salonika  and  to  Corfu  to 
search.  It  was  not  until  the  opening  of  the  year  1916 
that  news  came  to  him  that  he  trusted.  This  was  when 
three  of  his  daughter's  companions  in  the  Serbian  unit 
reached  London.  They  brought  him  the  first  trust 
worthy  report  of  what  had  happened  to  Nancy  when 
the  invasion  began,  and  while  they  could  give  no  assur 
ance  that  she  was  still  living  they  at  least  left  him  the 
hope  that  this  might  be  true.  How  improbable  the 
girls  felt  this  to  be,  they  took  care  not  to  let  the  dis 
tracted  man  know. 

Their  story,  so  far  as  it  interested  Reuben  Cowder, 
was  soon  told.  The  approach  of  the  Austro-Hungari- 
ans  from  the  north  and  the  Bulgars  from  the  west  had 
begun  the  middle  of  October.  The  Serbians,  who, 
through  the  months  since  the  first  invasion,  had  been 
accumulating  stores  and  preparing  for  a  second  attack, 
welcomed  the  enemy,  confident  of  their  ability  to  drive 
him  back.  Their  confidence  was  quickly  destroyed. 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          141 

The  mass  thrown  against  them  was  overpowering. 
Nish  was  taken  early  in  November  by  the  Bulgars, 
while  by  the  middle  of  the  month  the  army  from  the 
north  was  sweeping  Valievo.  Nancy's  unit,  unable  to 
believe  that  they  were  in  danger  and  unwilling  to  desert 
now  that  every  day  was  multiplying  the  wounded,  re 
mained  at  their  posts  until  the  population  was  ordered 
out. 

They  quickly  determined  not  to  abandon  the  fleeing 
people.  They  would  go  with  them,  a  traveling  unit. 
Two  great  ox  carts  were  secured,  and  their  stores  and 
a  few  of  the  most  helpless  patients  loaded  into  them. 
Two  native  women  who  had  become  particularly  use 
ful  were  taken,  and  thus  equipped  these  dauntless  young 
women  voluntarily  threw  themselves  into  the  great 
river  of  Serbs  flowing  southward. 

Of  the  terrors  and  hardships  of  that  journey  the  girls 
passed  over  lightly.  It  was  needless  to  torture  Nancy 
Cowder's  father,  they  felt.  They  told  him  only  that  a 
week  after  they  started  Nancy  had  become  separated 
from  them,  that  Nikola  Petrovitch  and  one  of  their 
Serbian  women  attendants  were  with  her  at  the  time, 
and  that  as  they  were  in  a  part  of  the  country  well 
known  to  both  of  them,  they,  in  all  probability,  finding 
it  impossible  to  overtake  their  own  party  in  the  rush 
and  confusion  of  the  fleeing  mob,  had  sought  to  find  a 
way  out  by  another  route,  or  had  taken  refuge  in  some 
mountain  farm  or  village  known  to  Nikola  and  unlikely 
to  be  reached  by  the  enemy  troops.  This  was  the  most 
hopeful  thing  they  could  tell  him,  and  they  made  the 
most  of  the  possibility,  assuring  him  again  and  again 
that  Nikola,  although  on  crutches,  was  now  strong  and 
so  good  a  mountaineer  and  so  devoted  to  Nancy  that 
he  surely  would  find  a  place  of  safety  for  her.  It  was 
a  slim  hope  —  but  it  was  a  hope. 

If  the  girls  had  had  the  courage  to  tell  Reuben  Cow- 


142          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

der  the  truth  about  their  parting  with  Nancy,  he  prob 
ably  would  have  held  the  hope  that  she  had  escaped  as 
lightly  as  they  did;  but  that  they  could  not  do.  They 
urged  him,  more  for  his  own  sake  than  for  hers,  to  go 
himself  to  Corfu  or  Salonika,  and  arrange  for  a  search 
party  of  Serbians  familiar  with  the  western  mountains. 
This  would  at  least  occupy  him.  And  so,  early  in  Jan 
uary,  1916,  he  left  London. 

Armed  with  every  conceivable  passport  and  creden 
tial  that  sympathetic  friends  and  officials  could  provide, 
he  made  straight  for  Durazzo, —  the  Albanian  port 
held  then  by  the  Italians  —  the  port  from  which  so 
many  of  the  refugees  had  been  transferred  to  Corfu,  to 
Corsica,  and  to  Italy.  It  seemed  to  him  sometimes  on 
his  journey  that  he  was  following  a  call.  "  Durazzo! 
—  Durazzo!  " — rang  in  his  ears,  whispered  itself  to 
him  in  his  sleep. 

So  impelling  was  his  conviction  that  he  must  at  once 
get  there  that  all  contrary  counsels,  whatever  their 
source,  left  him  unmoved,  and  so  to  Durazzo  he  went, 
arriving  the  third  week  of  the  month.  The  Austro- 
Hungarians  were  already  in  Albania;  they  had  taken 
ports  to  the  north.  It  looked  very  much  as  if  Reuben 
Cowder  had  arrived  only  in  time  to  witness  the  Italian 
evacuation. 

Searching  for  a  lost  one  in  that  confusion  was  heart 
breaking  work.  What  was  one  woman  among  the 
thousands  lost  and  dead  in  that  horrible  flight  before 
the  advancing  army!  The  valleys,  the  hillsides,  the 
crannies  of  the  mountain  on  the  route  that  they  had 
traveled,  were  filled  with  hideous  proofs  of  the  anguish 
and  death  that  marked  the  escape  of  the  Serbians. 
Fully  half  of  the  army  and  of  the  civilian  hordes  that 
followed  it  were  scattered  or  dead.  Durazzo  had 
been  filled  for  weeks  with  the  laments  of  those  who 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  143 

sought  fathers,  mothers,  husbands,  wives,  children  — 
and  never  found  them. 

When  he  told  the  officials  all  he  knew  of  Nancy  since 
she  left  Valievo  in  November,  he  was  assured  that 
there  was  not  a  chance  in  a  hundred  —  one  despairing 
official  said  a  thousand  —  that  she  was  alive. 

True,  she  might  have  gone  through  with  some  group 
which  had  reached  Corfu  or  Corsica  or  Italy,  but  the 
probabilities  were  that  in  that  case  she  would  have  ca 
bled.  It  was  not  likely  that  she  was  alive  if  she  had 
fallen  behind.  True,  she  might  be  concealed  in  some 
mountain  hamlet,  but  no  searching  party  was  possible 
under  any  auspices  now.  "  You  would  have  to  bring 
over  an  American  army  to  protect  you,  and  I  under 
stand  you  Americans  are  too  proud  to  fight,"  one  bitter, 
over-worked  Italian  Red  Cross  official  flung  at  him. 
In  all  his  determined,  well-ordered,  effective  life,  Reu 
ben  Cowder  had  never  experienced  before  what  he 
acknowledged  to  be  a  hopeless  situation.  This  was 
hopeless. 

He  had  followed  a  call.  It  had  led  him  to  Durazzo, 
and  now,  as  if  to  mock  his  faith,  he  saw  the  enemy  ready 
to  sweep  him  into  the  sea  as  it  had  the  people  his  daugh 
ter  had  befriended,  and  for  whom  he  was  willing  to  say 
now  that  she  had  died. 

And  then  the  impossible  happened.  Three  days 
after  his  arrival,  a  Red  Cross  official,  who  had  been 
particularly  interested  in  his  case,  hastily  summoned 
him  to  headquarters.  A  party  of  five  men  and  two 
women,  disguised  as  Albanian  peasants,  had  just 
reached  Durazzo.  Such  groups  were  common  in  those 
days.  One  of  the  men  in  this  party  —  a  man  on 
crutches,  a  Serbian,  claimed  that  a  woman  whom  they 
carried  with  them  in  a  rude  hammock  was  an  American. 
He  had  begged  them  to  cable  at  once  to  Reuben  Cowder 


i44          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

of  Sabinsport,  U.  S.  A.,  telling  him  his  daughter  was 
alive.  He  had  asked  for  a  nurse,  and  one  had  been 
sent  to  their  lodgings.  The  Serbian  had  not  been  told 
that  the  man  whom  he  sought  was  in  all  probability  at 
that  moment  in  Durazzo. 

The  Red  Cross  official  said  he  felt  certain,  from  the 
passports  and  papers  that  the  man  carried,  there  could 
be  no  doubt  of  the  identity  of  the  woman,  but  he  did  not 
want  to  raise  any  false  hopes.  Mr.  Cowder  must 
await  the  nurse's  report  before  trying  to  see  the  girl. 
If  she  were  as  weak  as  the  Serbian  claimed,  the  shock 
of  seeing  him  might  be  bad  for  her.  A  guide  would 
conduct  him  to  her  lodgings.  And  this  arranged,  the 
over-worked,  horror-fed,  shock-proof  Red  Cross  unit 
stopped  for  an  instant  to  wonder  and  to  rejoice  over  the 
amazing  incident,  and  then  turned  back  again  to  snatch 
what  human  drift  it  could  from  the  flood  of  misery  flow 
ing  through  its  hands,  never  again  even  to  remember 
the  names  of  the  father  and  daughter  so  miraculously 
reunited. 

Reuben  Cowder  never  knew  how  he  reached  the 
wretched  inn  in  which  the  little  party  had  found  shelter. 
Seeing  him  reeling  and  running  through  the  street,  one 
might  have  thought  him  demented,  but  dementia  was 
too  familiar  in  Durazzo  in  those  days  to  cause  remark. 
Nikola  Petrovitch,  meeting  him  at  the  door,  shrank 
from  his  outstretched  hands  as  if  they  were  those  of  a 
ghost.  In  all  his  imaginings  of  what  might  happen  to 
hasten  the  day  when  he  could  put  his  precious  charge 
still  alive  into  her  father's  care,  he  had  never  drearhed 
of  this.  Reuben  Cowder  here  !  Shaking  his  hands  — 
begging  for  the  truth  —  Was  Nancy  alive  ?  Could 
he  see  her? 

Nikola  Petrovitch  had  no  squeamish  notions  about 
joy  killing;  also  he  knew  better  than  nurse  or  doctor  the 
spirit  and  the  courage  of  the  woman  for  whose  life  he 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          145 

had  dared  every  danger  that  nature  and  man  in  their 
most  murderous  moods  devise.  He  took  Reuben  Cow- 
der  by  the  hand  and  led  him  straight  into  the  narrow 
stone-floored  chamber  where  Nancy  Cowder  lay,  and 
he  took  the  astonished  nurse  by  the  arm  and  led  her  out. 
He  was  right,  for  a  half  hour  later,  when  Reuben  Cow 
der  called  back  the  nurse,  the  first  color  that  had  tinged 
the  girl's  cheeks  in  weeks  was  on  them,  and  every  day 
that  followed,  in  spite  of  the  difficulties  and  dangers  in 
getting  away  from  Durazzo,  and  the  discomforts  of  the 
passage  across  the  Adriatic  on  the  crowded  steamer, 
Nancy  Cowder  grew  stronger.  She  would  get  well, 
she  told  her  father  confidently.  These  brave  people 
who  had  brought  her  safe  to  Durazzo  should  not  have 
risked  themselves  for  nothing.  And  as  for  her  father, 
never,  never  again  would  she  leave  him. 

But  getting  well  was  to  be  a  slow,  slow  process. 
They  took  her  to  a  nook  in  the  French  Mediterranean, 
and  there  for  months  she  lay,  regaining  little  by  little 
her  all  but  exhausted  vitality.  Reuben  Cowder  stayed 
at  her  side,  and  Nikola  Petrovitch  was  sent  back  to 
Sabinsport  and  to  his  family. 

It  was  from  Nikola  that  Sabinsport  learned  more  of 
the  heroism  of  Nancy  and  the  devotion  of  her  Serbian 
rescuers  than  Reuben  Cowder  himself  ever  knew. 
Her  parting  with  her  friends  had  not  been  an  accident, 
as  they  had  led  him  to  believe.  It  had  been  a  chance 
deliberately  taken  by  Nikola  when  Nancy,  worn  out  by 
her  long  year's  work,  had  totally  collapsed  after  a  few 
days  of  the  terrible  sights  and  hardships  of  the  retreat. 
They  had  found  her  one  morning  burning  with  fever 
and  babbling  nonsense.  It  was  then  that  Nikola  had 
asserted  himself.  Give  him  a  bullock  and  a  cart  and 
the  food  they  could  spare,  send  one  of  the  Serbian 
women  with  him,  and  he  would  take  her  to  a  place  he 
knew  in  the  mountains  which  the  Austrians  would  never 


146          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

find.  When  she  was  fit  to  move  he  would  get  her  to  a 
seaport  or  send  her  father  word  how  to  find  her.  And 
the  group  of  terrified  girls,  knowing  that  death  was 
almost  certain  in  the  rout  in  which  they  found  them 
selves,  believing  this  a  chance,  consented,  yet  in  their 
hearts  they  never  thought  to  see  her  again. 

There  was  more  hope  of  escape  in  Nikola's  under 
taking  than  they  had  realized.  Already  the  Serbian 
soldiers  had  begun  to  break  into  bands,  seeking  hiding 
places  little  likely  to  be  disturbed  for  months  at  least, 
and  it  was  one  of  these  bands  that,  coming  on  Nikola 
and  his  charges  two  days  after  they  had  started  into  the 
mountains,  volunteered  to  act  as  a  guard. 

No  one  ever  will  know  with  what  tenderness  and  de 
votion  these  rough  soldiers,  flying  for  their  lives,  cared 
for  the  delirious  girl.  The  cart  had  to  be  abandoned, 
but  from  the  coarse  blankets  they  carried  they  rigged 
up  a  rough  hammock,  and  for  days  took  turns  in  carry 
ing  it.  The  spot  they  sought,  and  finally  reached,  was 
a  tiny  hamlet,  hidden  in  a  cleft  of  a  mountain  —  a 
group  of  huts,  a  few  women  and  children,  a  few  goats 
and  bullocks  and  sheep  —  all  huddled  together  for  the 
winter.  They  only  too  gladly  welcomed  the  party,  for 
if  they  brought  tragic  news,  the  soldiers  had  stout 
hearts  and  willing  hands,  and  put  hope  again  into  the 
abandoned  groups. 

The  guest  house  of  the  Zadruga,  the  one  important 
family  in  the  hamlet,  was  set  aside  for  Nancy,  and  into 
it  went  every  comfort  that  the  community  afforded  — 
their  homespun  rugs,  their  homespun  "  tchilms  " — 
hangings,  some  of  which  would  have  done  credit  to  a 
Persian  weaver  —  covered  the  walls.  Homespun  linen 
furnished  her  bed,  native  embroideries  were  spread 
over  every  piece  of  furniture.  She  had  been  an  angel 
of  mercy  to  their  men;  she  had  left  her  home  to  aid 
them  —  all  they  had  was  here. 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          147 

The  Serbian  woman  had  learned  in  the  months  at 
Valievo  that  in  the  opinion  of  English  and  Americans 
at  least,  fresh  air,  warmth  and  cleanliness  were  essen 
tial  if  the  sick  were  to  recover,  and  in  spite  of  the  pro 
testations  of  the  inhabitants  in  regard  to  air  she  saw  to 
it,  with  almost  religious  zeal,  that  Nancy  had  all  three. 
Great  goat  skins  made  her  a  soft,  warm  bed;  a  roaring 
fire  burned  day  and  night  in  the  fireplace;  and  on  the 
hearth  there  was  always  a  big  jar  of  hot  water. 

After  many  days  of  fever  and  delirium,  the  girl  be 
gan  to  rally,  to  know  them,  to  understand  where  she 
was;  and  with  consciousness  came  courage,  and  she  lent 
her  help  to  theirs. 

Reuben  Cowder,  spending  his  time  and  money  and 
wits  in  inventing  devices  to  hasten  Nancy's  recovery, 
never  could  understand  how  anything  but  a  miracle  had 
saved  her  life,  cut  off  as  she  was  from  everything  that 
to  him  seemed  essential.  He  little  understood  the 
power  of  resistance  to  death  in  Nancy  herself,  and  he 
gave  nothing  like  their  due  to  the  bracing  mountain  air 
the  girl  was  breathing  and  the  goat's  milk  and  venison 
broth  on  which  she  was  feeding. 

The  real  miracle  had  been  their  escape  from  the 
mountains  to  the  shore.  Nikola  Petrovitch  had  not 
waited  for  Nancy  to  rally  to  make  his  plans  for  the 
hazardous  journey.  He  was  dominated  by  the  fear 
that  sooner  or  later  the  Austrians  might  reach  this  hid- 
ingplace,  that  he  might  be  killed.  What,  then,  would 
become  of  Nancy?  He  must  get  her  to  the  sea. 

The  project  was  not  so  wild  as  it  would  seem.  The 
band  of  soldiers  who  had  accompanied  him  to  the  ham 
let  was  one  of  numerous  bands  that,  breaking  away 
from  the  main  army  in  its  flight,  had  taken  refuge  in 
remote  places  in  the  mountains  of  western  Serbia  and 
in  the  Albanian  hills.  Communications  were  soon  es 
tablished  between  these  groups.  Secret  routes  for 


148          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

messages  were  opened.  It  was  not  long  before  they 
all  had  learned  of  the  rapid  sweep  of  the  enemy  into 
Montenegro  and  Albania,  of  the  escape  of  their  king 
and  a  portion  of  the  people  into  Corfu,  of  the  setting  up 
there  of  the  Serbian  Government,  and  of  the  plans  al 
ready  afoot  to  rebuild  the  army. 

Taking  advantage  of  the  opening  connections,  Ni 
kola  planned  with  the  soldiers  for  getting  Nancy  out  as 
soon  as  she  was  able  to  be  carried.  When,  late  in  De 
cember,  she  began  to  sit  up  a  little,  he  put  his  plan 
before  her,  told  her  of  the  groups  scattered  from  point 
to  point,  which  could  be  used  as  resting  places,  as  ref 
uges  in  case  of  need.  These  groups  would  know  the 
best  routes  to  follow,  would  send  guides  with  them, 
would  provide  food.  If  she  would  risk  it,  he  felt  that 
they  should  begin  the  journey  at  once. 

Weak  as  Nancy  was  in  body,  she  was  indomitable 
in  spirit  and  welcomed  the  venture. 

They  wrapped  her  like  a  mummy  in  goat-skins,  put 
her  into  a  hammock  of  the  same  warm  covering,  and 
with  bundles  on  their  back,  started  out  —  two  strong 
Serbian  soldiers,  the  native  woman  who  had  never 
wavered  in  her  devotion  from  the  beginning  of  the 
flight,  and  Nikola,  still  on  his  crutches. 

Nikola  was  never  tired  of  telling  his  Sabinsport 
friends  of  the  perils  and  hardships  of  the  journey.  To 
him  the  marvel  was  not  at  all  that  he  and  his  fellows 
should  have  risked  their  lives,  as  surely  they  did;  it  was 
that,  whatever  the  danger,  the  exposure,  the  privation, 
the  girl  they  carried  never  lost  heart,  never  complained, 
never  failed  to  greet  them  with  smiles.  They  knew 
she  grew  daily  weaker  and  weaker;  but  they  knew,  too, 
she  meant  to  live.  Her  courage  was  like  a  banner  to 
them.  It  was  something  they  followed  —  something 
they  must  not  shame  by  discouragement  or  failure. 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          149 

They  followed  it  to  the  end,  reaching  Durazzo,  as  I 
have  told. 

To  Sabinsport  the  tale  took  on  the  features  of  some 
great  Odyssey,  and  it  was  their  Odyssey,  for  did  not 
both  the  heroine  and  the  hero  to  whom  she  owed  her 
life  belong  to  them?  Sabinsport  had  not  yet  realized 
that  at  that  hour  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  Euro 
pean  continent  had  its  Odyssey. 

And  it  was  the  town's  introduction  to  the  Balkan 
question.  Up  to  now,  Serbia  had  scarcely  been  in 
cluded  in  the  field  of  war.  There  was  a  Western  front 
and  an  Eastern  for  them,  but  that  was  all.  Serbia's 
tragic  fate,  brought  home  to  them  as  it  was  by  Nancy 
Cowder's  escape,  set  them  to  asking  what  it  meant. 
Why  should  Austria  set  out  to  annihilate  a  people? 
Why,  even  Belgium's  fate,  hard  as  it  had  been,  did  not 
compare  in  cruelty  with  this.  She  meant  to  extermi 
nate —  nothing  else.  How  could  such  things  be? 
Should  such  things  be?  And  if  not,  what  should  Sab 
insport  do  about  it? 

The  War  Board  was  terribly  stirred  over  the  matter, 
and  Captain  Billy  did  not  hesitate  to  condemn  the  Allies 
bitterly  for  not  having  sent  aid  in  time  to  prevent  the 
disaster.  "  If  we'd  gone  into  this  war  when  we  ought 
to,"  he  declared  loudly,  "  this  thing  never  would  have 
happened.  Our  boys  would  have  gotten  around  there 
in  time."  And  there  was  a  constantly  increasing  num 
ber  of  people  who  agreed  with  him. 

Mr.  John  Commons,  with  his  usual  Shavian  per 
versity,  sneered  at  the  indignation  of  the  body,  and  he 
spent  an  entire  evening  reviewing  the  history  of  the 
Balkans,  pointing  out  with  real  enjoyment  the  incon 
sistencies,  violated  agreements,  murders  and  cruelties 
with  which  the  states  charge  one  another.  He  claimed 
he  could  match  every  Bulgar  atrocity  with  a  Serbian, 


150          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

and  quoted  a  well-known  modern  commission  to  prove 
his  point.  They  were  a  group  of  lawless  states,  born 
and  brought  up  to  cut  one  another's  throats  —  and  that 
a  peaceful  group  of  American,  citizens  should  lash  them 
selves  into  fighting  mood  because  one  of  the  cut-throats 
was  getting  the  worst  of  it,  was  only  another  of  the 
unspeakable  absurdities  of  this  war.  And  why  were 
they  so  stirred  up?  They  hadn't  even  remembered 
Serbia  was  in  the  war  until  this  story  about  Nancy  Cow- 
der  came  out.  Fool  thing  for  any  woman  to  do  —  just 
another  example  of  the  mania  for  notoriety  that  had 
seized  women  in  these  times.  He  supposed  Sabinsport 
would  insist  on  making  a  lion  of  her  when  she  came 
back.  He  hoped  she'd  have  sense  enough  to  have 
nothing  to  do  with  the  people  that  had  ignored  her  so 
long;  that  she'd  see  their  interest  in  Serbia  was  noth 
ing  in  the  world  but  vanity  —  their  desire  to  flatter 
themselves  they  knew  somebody  who  had  been  in  the 
thick  of  things.  Absurd,  he  called  it  —  enough  to 
make  the  gods  laugh. 

The  members  of  the  War  Board  went  home  much 
perturbed  after  this  long  harangue,  for  they  were  con 
siderably  muddled  in  their  minds.  Was  their  sudden 
interest  and  sympathy  ridiculous?  Dick  was  much  in 
terested  to  find  how  the  thoughtful  ones  figured  it  out. 
Of  course  Captain  Billy  didn't  need  to  figure  it  out. 
Captain  Billy  instinctively  and  promptly  took  his  posi 
tion  on  any  question  which  arrested  his  attention.  He 
never  had  to  think  —  he  knew.  To  him  all  this  "  back 
history  "  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  case.  Germany 
and  Austria  were  the  enemy.  Serbia  was  on  the  side 
of  the  Allies.  That  was  all  that  was  necessary  for  him 
to  know.  Neither  the  War  Board  nor  the  town  was 
so  sure.  In  many  a  quarter  of  the  town  Dick  ran  on 
efforts  to  understand  what  Europe  herself  has  so  long 
and  so  fatally  failed  to  understand.  The  boys  in  his 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          151 

club  began  to  ask  for  books  on  the  Balkans.  It  was  no 
uncommon  thing  to  find  the  butcher  or  the  grocer  cate 
chizing  Czech  or  Serb  or  Greek,  getting  their  point  of 
view.  And  the  stories  they  heard  were  repeated. 
Nikola  Petrovitch  became  one  of  the  mose  popular  men 
in  town.  The  radical  Rev.  Mr.  Pepper  gave  a  series 
of  Sunday  night  talks  on  the  submerged  Balkan  States, 
boldly  declaring  for  a  United  States  of  Europe,  which, 
if  not  a  new  idea  to  statesmen  and  journalists,  certainly 
was  new,  and  not  very  intelligible  to  his  congregation, 
most  of  whom  thought  he  was  going  rather  far  afield 
for  something  to  talk  about.  And  yet  they  listened, 
tried  to  understand,  and  many  of  them  discussed  the 
idea  —  studied  their  maps  —  looked  up  forgotten  his 
tories. 

It  was  leaven  —  working  leaven;  and  slowly  there 
rose  out  of  it  the  conviction  in  Sabinsport  that  some 
thing  was  very  wrong  indeed  in  Southwestern  Europe, 
and  that  the  powerful  states  of  those  parts,  instead  of 
trying  to  right  the  wrongs  by  just  agreements,  faithfully 
observed,  were,  and  long  had  been,  intent  on  keeping 
the  hot-headed  little  states  in  turmoil  and  in  suspicion, 
watching  their  chance  for  a  plausible  excuse  to  pounce 
on  them  one  by  one  and  absorb  them.  Certainly  this 
was  as  near  the  truth  as  you  could  get  in  regard  to 
Serbia  and  Austria ;  and  it  ought  to  be  stopped.  There 
were  few,  if  any,  in  Sabinsport  yet,  however,  that  felt 
that  our  responsibility  reached  that  part  of  the  world. 
To  rescue  France  and  avenge  Belgium  might  come  to  be 
our  business  —  was  our  business,  certain  ones  felt  more 
and  more  strongly.  But  the  Balkans?  No,  that  was 
not  for  us. 


CHAPTER  VI 

SABINSPORT  took  the  fate  of  Serbia  more  to 
heart  because  just  before  Nikola  came  home  in 
March  of  1916,  with  his  thrilling  personal  tales, 
Verdun  had  knocked  her  growing  hardness  and  indif 
ference  toward  the  war  to  splinters.  That  sudden 
fierce  flood,  breaking  at  a  point  in  the  long  line  of  which 
she  had  never  heard,  threatening  as  it  did  to  engulf  the 
defenders  and  sweep  over  Paris,  marked  an  epoch  in 
Sabinsport's  war  history.  Not  since  the  invasion  of 
Belgium  had  feeling  run  as  high  as  now.  There  was 
a  keen  personal  anxiety  lest  her  chosen  side  should  be 
beaten,  for  the  attack  revealed  to  Sabinsport  that  she 
had  a  chosen  side,  that  she  cared  —  cared  for  the  Al 
lies;  and,  above  all,  cared  for  France. 

Verdun  broke  a  crust  that  had  formed  over  the  town; 
a  curious  crust  which  had  grown  thicker  and  thicker 
through  the  winter  of  1915-16,  justifying  much  of 
Ralph's  bitterness  and  filling  Dick  with  increasing 
dread.  Half  of  this  was  reluctance  to  going  into  war 
—  not  fear,  mind  you,  not  at  all.  There  was  no  fear 
in  Sabinsport's  heart  of  anything  that  she  made  up  her 
mind  she  must  do,  but  there  was  a  strong  feeling  that 
she  ought  not  to  have  to  go  into  this  war,  that  it  was  not 
her  business,  that  there  ought  to  be  a  way  out.  It  was 
clinging  to  this  reluctance  through  a  growing  conscious 
ness  that  the  things  which  she  stood  for  were  being 
attacked,  that  hardened  her.  She  did  not  see  clearly 
yet,  it  is  true,  that  it  was  her  ideas  of  life  that  were  at 
stake  on  the  earth;  but  she  every  day  more  strongly 
suspected  that  was  the  case,  and  she  was  reluctant  to 
admit  it. 

152 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          153 

An  element  in  the  crust,  and  a  hard  one,  was  her 
desire  not  to  be  disturbed  in  her  prosperity.  She  was 
making  money.  The  whole  face  of  Sabinsport  had 
been  changed  in  the  year  and  a  half  since  the  war  be 
gan.  The  great  wire  mill  had  trebled  its  plant  and  was 
running  in  three  shifts,  day  and  night.  The  old  lin 
oleum  factory  around  the  Point  had  never  stopped 
growing.  There  were  2,000  girls  there  now,  the  pick 
of  Sabinsport  and  all  the  country  round.  When  you 
can  make  twenty  to  forty  dollars  a  week,  for  eight 
hours'  work,  as  these  girls  were  doing,  you  can  get 
pretty  nearly  any  wage-earning  woman  that  you  want, 
so  Sabinsport  had  discovered.  Teachers  had  left  the 
schools  throughout  the  county,  stenographers  had  left 
their  desks,  clerks  had  left  the  counters,  and  the  farm 
ers'  daughters  for  miles  around  had  flocked  into  the  fac 
tory.  This  meant  business  for  Sabinsport.  Months 
before  her  housing  capacity  had  outrun  the  demand. 
The  onrush  of  strange  men  and  women  had  raised  a 
score  of  difficult  and  delicate  problems;  but  it  all  meant 
money.  Never  had  the  shops  of  Sabinsport  made  so 
much,  never  had  they  charged  so  much.  And  this  pros 
perity  had  made  a  new  class  in  Sabinsport,  a  new  kind 
of  rich  —  the  munition  rich  they  called  them.  They 
succeeded  the  class  whose  fortunes  had  been  made  in 
the  factories,  as  that  class  had  succeeded  one  whose  for 
tunes  came  from  franchises;  immediately  back  of 
which  lay  those  made  rich  by  coal,  the  successors  of 
the  original  land  rich.  And,  like  each  successive  new 
rich  class,  they  brought  into  the  town  an  element  of 
vulgarity  which  their  predecessors  had  been  gradually 
living  down,  the  kind  of  hard  and  reckless  vulgarity 
which  the  sudden  possession  of  money  almost  invariably 
causes.  There  were  not  a  few  in  Sabinsport  whose 
families  had  outlived  all  this  unpleasant  phase  of 
wealth,  who  felt  and  talked  very  hardly  of  this  class. 


154          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

There  was  no  question  that  they  helped  in  the  forming 
of  the  crust  over  Sabinsport's  soul. 

There  was  still  another  element,  which  had  much  to 
do,  I  am  convinced,  with  a  certain  tenaciousness  in  the 
crust,  and  that  was  the  conviction  that  Germany  was 
bound  to  win;  and  all  they  wanted,  since  this  was  so, 
was  to  see  it  over  —  stopped  —  get  the  sound  of  it  out 
of  their  ears,  the  stench  of  it  out  of  their  nostrils. 

No,  Germany  could  not  be  beaten.  She  had  driven 
back  Russia.  She  had  won  at  Gallipoli,  she  had 
stripped  Serbia  from  its  people  and  driven  king  and 
army  to  take  refuge  on  an  island  of  the  sea.  She  had 
devised  unheard  of  weapons  of  terror  and  destruction 
in  the  air  and  under  the  water.  She  stood  surrounded 
by  enemies,  but  enemies  divided  by  seas,  divided  in 
command,  untrained  and  unfurnished;  sure,  and  daily 
more  brutal  and  fearful  because  so  sure.  Sabinsport 
did  not  believe  she  could  be  conquered.  She  had  a 
great  distaste  for  the  conclusion,  but  a  fact  was  a  fact, 
and  what  reason  had  you  to  suppose  she  could  be  held 
when  once  she  advanced?  She  would  not  make  a  sec 
ond  mistake  on  the  Marne. 

And  if  this  was  the  truth,  what  was  the  use  of  Sabins- 
port's  going  in?  Of  course  there  were  those  who 
said,  "  It  will  be  our  turn  next."  But  Sabinsport  was 
very  far,  at  this  point,  from  believing  this. 

This  crust  over  Sabinsport's  soul  had  more  and  more 
discouraged  Dick  through  the  winter.  Hard  as  it  was, 
however,  he  held  on,  in  face  of  the  town's  settled  con 
viction,  to  his  belief  in  final  victory.  He  simply  could 
not  see  either  England  or  France  giving  up.  It  wasn't 
possible.  They  weren't  made  that  way.  They  would 
die  and  die  and  die  but  not  surrender;  and  it  was  this 
inner  conviction  that  amounted  to  knowledge  that  was 
both  his  support  and  his  torture,  for  he  did  not  fool 
himself  for  a  moment  with  any  hopes  of  speedy  victory. 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          155 

It  would  be  long,  long,  long  years  —  and  what  years ! 
Young  men,  boys,  old  men,  steadily  marching  to  death, 
and  always  behind  them  others  coming  to  fill  their 
places  —  the  earth  ravaged  of  its  manhood.  High 
hearts,  great  loves,  beautiful  talents,  beneficent  powers, 
destroyed  until  the  earth  had  been  stripped  of  its  best. 
Women,  steadfast  and  brave,  giving  lovers,  sons, 
friends  —  all  that  made  life  fruitful  and  lovely  —  giv 
ing  them  with  no  waver  in  their  heroic  souls,  the  only 
outward  sign  their  whitening  hair,  their  sinking  cheeks, 
their  anguished  eyes.  He  saw  the  destruction  of  the 
best  work  of  men's  hands,  the  stopping  of  kindly  indus 
tries,  the  making  of  things  which  brought  comfort  and 
health  and  joy  to  men  —  all  ended  that  every  hand 
could  be  put  to  making  that  which  would  best  and  quick 
est  blow  to  pieces  the  largest  number  of  human  beings 
or  most  certainly  sink  them  to  the  secret  bottom  of  the 
pitiless  ocean.  He  saw  all  this  and  still  believed  in 
victory. 

We  would  go  in.  Dick  never  doubted  it  from  the 
day  that  England's  ultimatum  was  given  and  refused. 
Our  turn  would  come.  It  was  the  logic  of  the  struggle. 
Sabinsport  would  see  its  men  march  off  to  death  and 
mutilation,  would  see  its  women  silently  growing  old,  its 
works  of  peace  turned  to  works  of  war;  all  its  healthy, 
daily  life  remolded  to  serve  the  Great  Necessity  of  con 
quering  the  Monster  broken  loose. 

Most  cruelly  had  he  suffered  through  the  days  of 
Gallipoli,  and  in  this  he  was  alone.  It  seemed  to  him 
sometimes  that  no  one  in  Sabinsport  ever  thought  of 
what  was  going  on  in  Gallipoli.  The  truth  was  the 
field  of  the  war  had  become  too  wide,  too  complicated, 
for  Sabinsport  to  follow.  The  war  for  her  was  the 
line  from  the  Channel  to  Switzerland,  and  particularly 
the  part  of  it  where  the  fighting  of  the  moment  was  live 
liest,  so  she  refused  to  consider  Gallipoli. 


156          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

Dick  followed  every  detail  of  that  cruel  and  valiant 
struggle.  He  had  a  talent  for  the  visualization  of 
physical  things  which  he  had  trained  until  it  was  instinc 
tive.  Topography,  contour,  forests  and  fields,  towns, 
farms,  churches,  the  turn  of  streets  and  the  winding  of 
rivers,  the  look  of  shop  fronts,  the  town  square,  its 
fountains  and  statues,  the  town  promenade,  the  cos 
tumes  of  men  and  women,  the  cattle  they  prized,  the 
horses  they  drove,  the  dogs  at  their  heels  —  he  saw 
them  all.  It  had  been  his  play  in  travel  to  anticipate 
what  he  was  to  see,  and  then  to  compare  with  what  he 
found.  With  much  travel,  gaining  knowledge  of 
things  as  they  are  and  as  the  books  say  them  to  be,  Dick 
had  grown  amazingly  clever  in  this  play  of  construc 
tion. 

But  since  the  war  this  faculty  had  become  a  torture. 
It  was  so  much  a  part  of  him  that  he  could  no  more  pre 
vent  its  operating  than  he  could  prevent  his  mind  from 
instinctively  forming  judgments.  But  never  in  the  war 
had  he  been  so  cruelly  tormented  as  by  the  scenes  which 
passed  before  his  eyes,  as  real  as  the  streets  of  Sabins- 
port,  every  time  that  he  saw  or  heard  the  word  "  Gal- 
lipoli."  True,  his  affections  were  deeply  touched. 
Some  of  the  best  friends  of  his  Oxford  days  were  there, 
and  one  by  one  he  learned  they  would  never  return. 
The  sandy,  burning,  treeless,  waterless  tongue  of  land, 
with  its  scanty  footholds  for  the  English  and  its  shel 
tered  pits  for  the  enemy  that  from  over  their  heads  in 
the  heights  poured  fire  and  death  on  them,  to  him 
seemed  like  some  hideous  dragon  —  a  dragon  fifty- 
seven  miles  long,  carrying  on  back  and  in  belly  every 
weapon  of  destruction  known  to  man  and  nature.  He 
grew  sick  and  faint  as  he  saw  men  he  loved  making 
their  landings  through  spitting  shell  and  shrapnel,  saw 
them  crawling  through  mesquite  and  sand  to  attack, 
saw  them  wounded  and  abandoned,  going  mad  under 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  157 

the  burning  sun  or  dying  of  pain  and  exhaustion  where 
they  lay  on  beach  or  hillside.  It  was  infernal;  a  mad, 
romantic  adventure,  gallantly,  chivalrously  undertaken 
and  carried  on  to  its  ghastly  failure. 

Dick  could  neither  forgive  nor  forget  Gallipoli. 
Then  came  the  attack  on  Verdun  —  and  the  crust  broke 
in  Sabinsport.  He  was  no  longer  alone  now  in  his  anx 
iety.  Everybody  cared.  There  was  Patsy.  Patsy 
was  wild  with  fury  and  with  dread.  The  day  and 
night  she  had  spent  in  Verdun  in  August,  1914  —  pre 
ceded  and  followed  as  it  was  by  much  looking  at  fortifi 
cations  and  listening  to  much  clear  explanations  by  her 
friends  and  the  officers  who  piloted  them  —  had  given 
Patsy  a  keen  sense  of  what  Verdun  meant  for  both  at 
tacked  and  defenders.  All  that  she  had  seen  and 
heard,  all  the  confidence  she  had  of  the  impregnability 
of  the  place  when  there  —  her  sense  of  surprise  that 
the  French  officers  should  look  serious,  even  anxious  — 
had  been  shattered  by  the  events  of  Belgium's  invasion. 
Did  not  Namur  have  encircling  forts?  Had  she  not 
seen  their  guns  and  heard  tales  of  their  strength,  and 
had  not  the  Germans  walked  into  Namur? 

Oh,  they  would  shatter  Verdun  and  all  its  pleasant 
places.  She  would  never  do  what  she  had  dreamed  — 
go  when  she  was  old  and  sit  again  in  the  garden  of  the 
little  cafe  by  the  Meuse,  and  reflect  how  here  were 
things  that  did  not  change.  She  brought  out  the  first 
long  letter  she  had  sent  after  the  war  began  and  re 
called  details  of  what  she  had  seen  —  could  it  be  but 
eighteen  months  ago  that  she  climbed  to  the  highest 
tower  of  the  Verdun  citadel  and  looked  over  the  town 
and  country  —  and  now,  why  now,  those  very  buildings 
were  many  of  them  in  heaps  —  all  that  fair  country 
torn  open,  its  great  trees  down,  its  farms  desolate. 
The  infamy  of  it! 

Patsy  lost  no  chance  now  to   stir   Sabinsport     In 


158          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

school,  in  her  club,  with  her  friends,  she  talked  Verdun, 
and  she  asked  tragically  and  constantly  the  question 
that  she  had  not  asked  often  of  herself  or  others  in 
the  past,  so  absorbed  was  she  in  Belgium's  relief,  and 
that  was,  "  When  are  we  going  in?  Are  we  going  to 
let  this  thing  go  on?  If  Paris  is  to  be  ravished  like 
Louvain,  are  we  going  to  sit  quiet?  " 

It  was  this  unanswered  question,  stirring  in  Sabins- 
port's  unsatisfied  soul,  that  made  her  take  so  to  heart 
her  first  war  casualty.  It  came  at  the  very  start  of  the 
diversion  by  the  English,  the  diversion  on  the  Somme, 
which  gave  the  first  real  hope  of  relieving  Verdun. — 
Mikey,  Katie's  son,  now  Lieut.  Michael  Flaherty,  if 
you  please,  went  over  the  top  —  and  Mikey  did  not 
come  back. 

They  left  him  in  No  Man's  Land,  with  a  bullet 
through  his  brain  —  a  clean,  quick  death,  thank  God 
—  no  writhing  on  live  wires,  no  hours  of  hideous,  hope 
less  pain  in  the  mire,  uncared  for,  no  slow  dying  —  just 
one  quick  stab  when  his  blood  was  hot  with  the  passion 
of  war  and  his  heart  was  at  the  highest. 

The  news  came  straight  to  Dick,  as  Mikey  had  care 
fully  planned  it  should.  Soon  after  he  reached 
France  he  had  written  back,  "  If  anything  should  hap 
pen  to  me,  Mr.  Dick,  I've  fixed  it  so  they'd  tell  you 
first,  and  I  know  you'll  make  it  as  easy  as  you  can  for 
my  mother.  Not  that  I'm  worrying,  but  a  fellow  gets 
to  looking  out  for  things  here." 

Mikey's  thoughtfulness  was  justified.  As  Dick  held 
the  message  which  came  to  him  at  daybreak  and  tried 
to  frame  words  which  would  be  gentle  and  merciful,  he 
felt  utterly  helpless. 

In  the  year  that  Mikey  had  been  gone,  Katie  had  be 
come  more  and  more  proud  of  him.  She  was  confident 
he  would  return  as  a  "  gineral."  And  Katie  had  a 
right  to  be  proud.  Mikey  had  done  wonders.  His 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          159 

strength,  his  wit,  his  love  of  a  fight,  his  proud  conviction 
that  he'd  gone  in  for  Mr.  Dick,  all  had  made  him  a 
wonderful  soldier.  He  had  been  advanced,  he  was 
Lieutenant  Flaherty  by  the  spring  of  1916,  and  Katie 
had  a  picture  of  him  in  her  pocket,  familiar,  indeed,  to 
most  of  Sabinsport  because  Ralph  had  printed  it  in  the 
Argus.  It  had  been  copied  in  a  city  Sunday  supple 
ment,  much  to  the  joy  of  Katie  and  the  pride  of  the 
Boys'  Club  and  the  War  Board.  At  the  latter  place, 
in  fact,  it  had  been  given  a  place  of  honor  on  the  wall 
opposite  King  Albert  and  Papa  Joffre,  and  underneath 
in  big  letters,  printed  carefully  by  Captain  Billy,  were 
the  words,  "  Lieut.  Michael  Flaherty,  Sabinsport,  U. 
S.  A." 

And  now  he  was  dead.  How,  Dick  asked  himself, 
could  he  go  to  the  woman  whose  only  son  had  given  his 
life  in  doing  his  work?  How  could  he  console  poor 
Katie  —  he,  the  cause  of  her  grief?  An  indirect  and 
unwilling  cause,  to  be  sure,  but  would  Mikey  have 
found  his  way  to  France  without  him?  he  wondered 
now,  as  he  sat  miserably  looking  at  the  yellow  sheet  in 
his  hand.  Katie  had  long  ago  worked  it  out  that  it 
was  the  martial  soul  of  the  boy  that  had  led  him  away. 
"  He'd  a  gone  without  you,  Mr.  Dick.  He's  a  born 
soldier.  He'd  a  gone  wherever  the  war  was  in  the 
world  if  he'd  never  seen  you."  Would  she  still  think 
so  when  he  told  her? 

He  gathered  himself  up  finally  and  went  about  his 
morning  toilet.  Katie  came  at  seven.  His  breakfast 
was  always  served  at  the  stroke  of  eight.  He  had 
only  begun  his  dressing  when  he  heard  the  distant 
click  of  her  door.  He  could  hear  her  singing  when, 
later,  he  gathered  his  resolution  and  went  to  the  kitchen. 
She  was  at  the  stove  frying  his  bacon  —  she  turned  a 
red  and  happy  face  to  him. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Mr.  Dick,  comin'  in  at  this 


160         THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

time  of  — "  She  stopped  —  her  frying  pan  high  over 
the  stove.  "  Is  it  Mikey  you've  news  of?  "  The 
dread  anguish  in  the  voice  after  the  hearty  cheer  of  a 
moment  before  hurt  Dick  like  a  knife. 

"  Katie,"  he  said,  putting  a  gentle  hand  on  her  shoul 
der — "  my  poor  Katie!  "  and  the  tears  came. 

"He's  hurt!     He's  dead!  " 

"  He's  dead,  Katie." 

She  stood  stock  still,  and  slowly  a  look  of  fierce  ha 
tred  came  into  her  face.  "  God  pity  the  Germans  that 
fought  him.  It  don't  say  how  many  he  killed?" 
Then,  dropping  frying  pan  and  bacon,  and  throwing 
her  apron  over  her  head,  she  fell  into  a  chair  and  rock 
ing  back  and  forth,  cried  in  her  sorrow: 

"O  Mikey,  Mikey!  What's  the  use  of  it  all? 
What's  the  use  of  it  all?" 

As  Dick  recalled  the  miserable  hour  later,  there  was 
one  strong  and  uplifting  thing  in  it  —  the  woman's 
brave  efforts  to  control  her  grief  and  attend  to  his 
morning  wants. 

'  The  likes  of  me,"  she  said,  fighting  back  her  tears, 
"  forgettin'  you  like  this.  Ye'll  forgive  me,  Mr. 
Dick?  "  Dick  begged  her  not  to  mind  him,  to  let  him 
wait  on  himself  —  she  wouldn't  hear  of  it,  but  went 
through  the  round.  Never  for  an  instant,  Dick  knew, 
did  she  have  a  thought  of  holding  him  responsible. 
Never  for  a  moment  did  she  think  of  neglecting  him. 
Only  once  more  did  she  completely  break  down. 

It  was  when,  in  reply  to  her  sudden  question,  "  When 
will  I  be  gettin'  my  body,  Mr.  Dick!  "  he  had  been 
forced  to  tell  her  that  even  that  poor  comfort  was  de 
nied.  Then  again  the  apron  went  over  her  head,  and 
ae:ain  that  pitiful  wail,  "  O  Mikey  boy !  O  Mikey  boy ! 
What's  the  use  of  it  all?  What's  the  use  of  it  all?  " 

Sabinsport  took  Mikey's  death  to  heart.  The  boy 
had  long  been  a  town  character.  From  the  time  he  had 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          161 

first  appeared  —  freckled,  red-headed,  round  as  a  tub 
— on  the  seats  of  the  Primary  Department,  his  elders 
had  been  forced  to  take  account  of  him.  The  well  of 
vitality  in  him  bubbled  from  morning  until  night.  His 
pranks  followed  one  another  in  a  stream  no  punishment 
could  more  than  momentarily  check.  For  originality 
and  unexpectedness,  no  mischief  known  to  Sabinsport's 
School  Board  and  school  teachers  had  ever  touched 
Mikey's.  It  had  a  mirth-provoking  quality,  too,  which 
made  it  hard  to  be  dealt  with  adequately.  He  did 
"  the  last  thing  you'd  think  of  " —  the  kind  of  thing 
which  was  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth  and  set  the 
men,  particularly,  to  grinning.  The  women  took  it 
more  seriously  —  they  had  to  deal  with  him.  Katie 
"  licked  "  him,  as  she  called  it,  faithfully  and  hard;  and 
Mikey  took  it  manfully  as  part  of  the  order  of  things. 
He  had  his  philosophy:  "  If  you  don't  have  no  fun 
you  don't  git  licked."  He  preferred  fun,  and  hard 
ened  his  soul  to  punishment. 

He  had  grown  up  decent  as  could  be  expected,  and 
so  merry  that  everybody  loved  him.  He  was  in  the 
way  of  becoming  a  crack  in  the  wire  mill  when  the  Lusi- 
tania  outrage  came,  and  he  ran  to  join  the  avengers  as 
quickly  as  from  childhood  he  had  always  jumped  into 
any  fight  in  alley  or  street,  in  school  or  shipyard,  when 
his  queer  sense  of  justice  was  aroused.  He  was  always 
a  "  grand  fighter,"  Katie  often  said,  when  townspeople 
congratulated  her  on  the  part  he  had  taken  with  the 
Canadians.  There  was  no  doubt  but  that  Sabinsport 
followed  more  carefully  the  famous  fights  of  the  Eng 
lish  because  Mikey  Flaherty  was  with  them.  The  Boys' 
Club,  the  War  Board,  the  Argus,  Katie's  friends,  Patsy 
at  the  High  School  and  in  the  Women's  Clubs  —  all 
watched  for  the  reports  of  what  the  Canadians  were 
doing  —  talked  them  over,  and  wondered  first  if 
Mikey,  and  later  if  the  Lieutenant,  was  there.  It  was 


1 62          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

the  idea  that  somebody  they  had  always  known  was  liv 
ing  in  the  trenches  that  gave  an  interest  and  a  reality 
to  mud  and  rats  and  cooties,  which  grew  with  what 
they  heard.  Mikey's  letters  were  read  and  re-read 
and  printed  in  the  Argus  "  by  request." 

Ralph  grumbled  at  the  abnormal  curiosity,  as  he 
called  it,  for  horrors,  and  again  quarreled  with  Patsy 
for  cultivating  the  love  of  war  among  her  pupils,  to 
which  Patsy  hotly  replied  that  she'd  never,  as  long  as 
she  lived,  cease  to  cultivate  hatred  of  Germany  and  her 
kind  of  war.  And  then  for  days  there  would  be  cold 
ness  between  them.  Patsy  would  cry  herself  to  sleep, 
and  Ralph  would  go  about  glum  and  self-accusing,  save 
now  and  then  when  he  would  burst  into  cursing  at  war 
and  all  its  horrible  effects.  "  If  it  wasn't  for  the  war, 
I'd  have  friends  in  Sabinsport,"  he  told  Dick. 

If  there  was  no  one  else  in  Sabinsport  by  the  summer 
of  1916  to  whom  the  war  had  brought  the  same  anguish 
as  to  Katie  Flaherty,  there  was  a  constantly  larger  num 
ber  to  whom  it  was  bringing  dread  and  pain.  The  war 
—  this  war  which  did  not  concern  them,  continued  to 
reach  its  long  and  cruel  tentacles  across  the  sea  and 
every  now  and  then  literally  lift  a  member  from  some 
apparently  somnolent  family.  There  was  Young  Tom, 
as  all  Sabinsport  called  the  eighteen-year-old  son 
of  Tom  and  Mary  Sabins.  Young  Tom  had  come 
home  from  school  in  the  fall  of  1915  and  announced 
that  he  had  volunteered  for  ambulance  service  in 
France,  and  that  if  they  didn't  do  the  square  thing  and 
let  him  go,  he'd  run  away.  And  they  knew  he  would 
do  it.  Tom  took  it  squarely  and  with  inward  pride,  but 
Mary  Sabins'  world  toppled  on  its  foundations  when 
she  heard  his  ultimatum  and  realized  that  for  some  rea 
son  unknown  to  herself  her  husband  actually  sympa 
thized  with  the  boy. 

"  But  why?     Why?     It's  not  your  country.     You 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          163 
have  no  right  to  go.     You're  my  son.     I  will  not  con 


sent.'' 


"  Mother,"  said  Young  Tom,  with  the  cruel  finality 
of  youth  that  nothing  but  its  own  wish  moves,  "  I'm  go 
ing.  This  is  the  biggest  scrap  the  world  ever  saw,  and 
you  needn't  think  I'm  going  to  miss  it." 

"But  wait  —  wait  until  you're  twenty-one,"  she 
urged.  "  You  must  finish  college.  You  might  be 
killed." 

"  Sure,  I  might  —  but  I  won't  be.  If  I  wait  I'll  miss 
it.  It  will  be  over.  Can't  you  understand,  Mother, 
why  a  fellow  wants  to  get  into  the  big  things?  And 
then,  darn  it,  Mother,  haven't  you  any  feeling  for 
France?  Why,  France  helped  us  when  we  were  up 
against  it,  and  we  owe  her  one." 

But  to  Mary  Sabins  the  appeal  was  empty.  It 
reached  neither  her  mind  nor  her  heart.  Young  Tom 
was  part  of  her  world  —  her  own  private  affair. 
What  right  had  the  war  to  touch  it?  What  could  ail 
him  that  he  should  do  this  mad  thing?  She  had  all 
her  plans  made  for  him  —  they  had  money  to  carry 
them  out.  This  spoiled  everything. 

Mary  fought  with  all  her  strength,  employed  all  the 
resources  for  persuading  she  had  developed.  It  was 
pitiful  how  few  they  were,  how  defenseless  she  was. 
She  who  had  always  had  what  she  wanted,  she  whom  a 
father  first  and  then  a  husband  had  delighted  to  serve. 
She  had  no  weapons  for  fighting,  she  realized,  because 
she  had  never  needed  them.  To  ask  had  been  all  she 
had  ever  done,  and  here  was  their  lad,  her  son,  failing 
her,  defying  her,  unhearing  when  she  cried,  disobeying 
when  she  ordered.  She  was  horrified  by  the  hope 
lessness  of  her  resistance,  and  shocked  no  less  by  the 
knowledge  that  Tom  himself  did  not  agree  with  her; 
that  he  even  rejoiced  in  the  boy's  daring. 

There  were  women,  too,  who  said,  "  How  proud  you 


1 64          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

must  be,  Mary."  The  boy  had  gone  early  in  1916. 
She  heard  from  him  regularly,  but  she  was  bitter  in 
her  heart,  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  did  not  find 
full  satisfaction  in  her  busy  days  of  planning  and  buy 
ing  for  herself  and  household,  in  keeping  immaculate 
her  luxurious  home,  in  entertaining  and  being  enter 
tained  in  the  lively  Sabinsport  group  in  High  Town: 
In  her  grief  Mary  had  had  but  one  real  comforter 

—  Katie  Flaherty.     It  was  Katie's  pride  in  her  soldier 
that  had  persuaded  Dick,  soon  after  Young  Tom  left, 
that  she  might  at  least  help  reconcile  Mary  Sabins  to 
the  boy's  adventure.     And  Katie  asked  nothing  better 
than  to  talk.      u  Don't  you  be  worryin'  about  your  by, 
Mrs.  Sabins,"  she  said.      "  Don't  I  know  all  about  it, 
and  me  a  widder  and  him  me  only  one?     But  I'm  that 
proud  of  him  now  I  can't  sleep  o'  nights  sometimes. 
The  pluck  of  him  —  to  get  up  in  the  night  and  go,  fear- 
in'  I  wouldn't  let  him.      Sure,  and  your  by  never  did  the 
likes  o'  that.     He  told  you  square  and  you  could  say 
good-by  and  get  his  picture  and  go  to  the  train  and  see 
him  off.     What'd  you  done  if  you'd  got  up  in  the  morn- 
in'  and  found  him  gone  and  nothin'  but  a  letter  left? 
God  help  me,  Mrs.  Sabins,  it  was  the  first  time  since  he 
was  laid  in  me  arms  the  hour  after  he  was  born,  that 
I  hadn't  waked  him  —  and  sometimes  bate  him  to  get 
him  up  to  breakfast.     To  call  him,  and  call  him  and  get 
no  answer,  to  go  scoldin'  in  to  shake  him  and  find  he'd 
niver  been  in  the  bed  at  all,  and  a  letter  on  his  pillow 

—  no,   ma'am,   you   hadn't  that.     You   saw   him   off. 
An'  he's  doin'  fine  over  there.     Think  of  the  good  he'll 
be  doin',  haulin'  the  boys  that  gets  hurt  to  the  doctor  — 
that's  what  Mr.  Dick  says  he  doin'.     And  fine  work  it 
is.     Don't  you  think  I'm  easier  in  my  mind  for  knowin' 
there's  ambulancers  like  him  to  pick  up  my  Mikey  if  a 
dirty  German  sticks  him?     Sure  I  am.     You  ought  to 
be  that  proud  not  to  be  mother  to  a  coward."     And  so 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          165 

on  and  on  Katie  talked,  and  somehow  Mary  Sabins  al 
ways  was  for  a  time  less  bitter  after  hearing  Katie. 

And  then  news  came  of  Mikey's  death.  It  was  the 
first  time  since  Young  Tom  had  left  that  Mary  had 
quite  forgotten  herself  in  sympathy  for  somebody  else. 
Dick  telephoned  her,  and  she  had  hurried  to  the  rectory 
where  in  Katie's  kitchen  the  two  women  cried  on  each 
other's  shoulders,  entirely  unconscious  of  the  difference 
in  station  that  ordinarily  kept  one  standing  while  the 
other  sat!  It  was  the  beginning  of  one  of  the  most 
wholesome  and  steadying  friendships  Mary  Sabins  had 
ever  had. 

But  while  Mikey  and  Young  Tom  were  the  two  best 
known  figures  now  "  in  the  war,"  they  were  by  no  means 
the  only  ones.  There  was  John  A.  Papalogos.  He 
had  called  Dick  in  one  morning  soon  after  the  first  revo 
lutionary  outbreak  in  Greece.  His  face  was  ablaze 
with  joy.  "It's  come,"  he  said.  "It's  come  —  no 
more  kings  for  Greece  —  we'll  have  our  Republic.  I 
go  to  fight  for  Greece  free.  I  go  now,  but  what  I  do 
with  my  place?"  and  he  looked  blankly  at  the  full 
shelves  of  "  fancy  goods  "  and  the  stock  of  fruits  and 
candies. 

"  I'll  look  after  it,"  said  Dick,  promptly.  "  Go  as 
soon  as  you  please,"  and  John  A.  Papalogos,  radiant 
with  relief,  had  departed  twenty-four  hours  later,  leav 
ing  a^  fruit  store  on  Dick's  hands  —  a  fruit  store  with  a 
primitive  set  of  accounts  in  the  drawer  and  written  in 
structions  to  close  it  out  and  give  the  proceeds  to  the 
Bovs'  Club  in  case  of  his  known  death. 

*  The  war  certainly  is  getting  its  hands  on  you,  all 
right,"  said  Ralph  when  Dick  told  him  of  his  new  care. 
1  You  needn't  worry  about  your  bit."  But  Dick  only 
gulped. 

There  were  others  from  Sabinsport  gone  over-seas 
—  men  hardly  known  to  the  town,  and  vet  their  going 


1 66          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

was  swelling  constantly  the  town's  interest,  knowledge, 
sense  of  connection  —  these  were  men  from  mines,  fac 
tories,  mills,  men  who  picked  up  and  left  without  even 
a  notice  in  the  Argus  —  to  join  the  Canadians  —  the 
English,  the  Foreign  Legion.  They  were  of  many  na 
tions  —  and  months  later  —  long  after  their  going  had 
been  forgotten  save  by  a  few,  word  sometimes  came 
from  them  by  more  or  less  accident  to  their  friends  — 
"Lost  a  leg  at  Vimy " ;  "Decorated  at  Verdun"; 
"  Killed  at  Messine  Ridge."  Their  number  was  so 
considerable  that  it  finally  led  Ralph  to  investigate, 
and  Sabinsport  was  deeply  stirred  to  read  one  night 
the  names  of  fifty  men  whom  the  European  war  had 
taken  —  twenty-five  were  foreigners,  but  twenty-five 
were  Americans. 

;'  It's  getting  us,"  Ralph  said,  again  and  again. 
"  It's  getting  us."  And  it  was  getting  them.  Dick, 
who  at  times  watched  almost  breathless  with  desire  that 
Sabinsport  should  understand,  and  who  again  and  again 
groaned,  "  God!  how  slow  she  is  to  see  it,"  began  to 
take  heart.  So  deeply  was  the  town  engaged  in 
thought  and  feeling  that  not  even  the  coming  of  a  war 
of  her  own  detached  her  interest.  Indeed,  it  was  a 
little  difficult  for  her  to  take  the  trouble  with  Mexico 
very  seriously,  not  being  able  to  stretch  her  imagina 
tion  to  the  point  where  Mexico  could  be  anything  more 
serious  to  the  United  States  than  a  nuisance.  Yet  it 
did  make  a  difference  in  things.  When  the  call  came 
in  June  a  hundred  men  and  boys  suddenly  appeared  in 
khaki  on  the  streets,  making  for  the  rendezvous. 
They  came  from  the  towns  and  surrounding  country, 
and  passed  through  the  town  so  quietly  and  swiftly  that 
Sabinsport  gasped  with  amazement.  She  had  not  real 
ized  that  she  and  the  neighborhood  had  soldiers. 

It  disturbed  things  some.     A  thriving  little  grocery 
closed  its   doors  because   the   young  proprietor  was 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          167 

among  the  called.  His  wife  with  her  baby  went  home 
to  her  father  and  mother.  It  was  hard;  but  all  she 
said  was,  "  It's  war."  Dick  started  when  they  re 
peated  the  incident  to  him.  "  That  was  what  return 
ing  Americans  never  ceased  to  marvel  at  in  French 
and  Belgian  women  —  their  quiet  answer  to  every 
hardship,  every  sorrow  — '  C'est  la  guerre!  "  That 
was  what  had  amazed  Patsy  at  Namur.  And  here  was 
a  commonplace  little  woman  in  this  land,  which  the  re 
turning  Americans  always  insisted  was  utterly  lost  in 
selfishness  and  cowardice,  giving  up  her  home  and  all 
her  dawning  hopes,  with  the  same  simple,  "  It's  war." 

Was  war  one  of  the  universal  facts  accepted  by  sim 
ple  people,  to  whom  life  is  all  reality  and  almost  noth 
ing  of  speculation  and  theory?  Was  it  something  they 
knew  by  instinct  to  be  one  of  the  inevitable  tragedies  of 
human  existence,  like  sickness  and  death,  storms  and 
pests?  Did  all  natural  people  take  war  this  way, 
neither  revolting  nor  lamenting?  Could  it  be  that 
Americans,  trained  to  despise  and  hate  war  as  a  lower 
form  of  energy,  an  appeal  only  for  those  people  who 
were  ruled  by  tyrants  and  forbidden  to  express  their 
will,  to  use  their  brains  and  self-control  in  finding  peace 
ful  conclusions  for  all  misunderstandings  —  could  it  be 
that  they,  too,  accepted  it  with  this  simple,  "  It  is 
war"? 

If  the  Great  War  came  to  the  country,  as  Dick  be 
lieved  it  must  soon,  would  Sabinsport  take  it  as  she 
was  taking  the  Border  Trouble  —  send  her  men,  read 
just  her  affairs,  go  on  with  her  daily  duties?  He  won 
dered,  but  he  was  comforted;  and  as  he  watched  the 
way  Sabinsport  took  the  successive  steps  of  the  Mexican 
difficulty,  he  gathered  more  and  more  hope.  She 
watched  every  day's  events,  discussed,  criticized,  con 
demned,  approved.  She  knew  as  much  of  the  essen 
tials  as  the  metropolis,  though,  as  he  realized,  the  me- 


1 68          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

tropolis  was  loudly  proclaiming  that  Sabinsport  did  not 
even  know  there  was  a  war  either  with  Mexico  or  in 
Europe;  that  she  was  simply  a  sample  of  all  of  the 
United  States  outside  of  a  portion  of  the  Atlantic  Coast, 
lost  in  money-making  and  comfort-seeking. 

Dick  said  little,  but  more  and  more  he  became  con 
vinced  that  Sabinsport  was  taking  the  thing  quite  as 
seriously,  if  less  noisily,  than  that  portion  of  the  Atlan 
tic  Coast  that  felt  that  all  loyalty  and  understanding 
was  centered  in  itself.  She  had  her  losses.  The  little 
grocer  never  came  back  —  shot  in  a  riot.  Two  farm 
ers'  boys  died  of  fever,  and  Sabinsport  buried  them  in 
pride  and  sorrow.  "  She  takes  it  so  straight,"  he 
thought.  "  I  wonder  if  it  will  be  like  this  when  the 
great  thing  comes." 

The  great  thing  was  coming,  he  felt,  and  he  felt 
that  Sabinsport  vaguely  knew  it  —  was  only  waiting  to 
be  sure.  To  him  it  all  depended  on  Sabinsport  whether 
we  went  into  the  war  —  not  on  the  Administration,  not 
on  Congress,  not  on  the  angry,  indignant  voices  that 
hurled  cries  of  scorn  at  her.  We  would  go  in  when 
Sabinsport  was  sure!  Sure  of  what?  When  she  was 
sure  that  we  could  no  longer  do  business  with  Germany. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THIS  crescendo  of  interest  was  not  lost  on  Ralph. 
He  knew  in  his  heart  it  was  sucking  him  in,  had 
known  since  the  day  the  news  had  come  of  the 
attack  on  Verdun.     He  knew  then  that  he,  like  Sabins- 
port,  cared  about  the  result;  but  he  kept  his  feeling 
carefully  concealed,  hardly  admitting  it  to  himself. 

He  was  still  floundering.  For  some  time  after  his 
frank  repudiation  in  August  of  1915  of  Labor's  Na 
tional  Peace  Council,  he  had  fidgeted  from  question  to 
question  in  the  Argus,  trying  to  fix  firmly  on  a  campaign 
which  would  advance  his  program  for  Sabinsport's  re 
generation  and  either  ignore  or  belittle  the  war.  But 
nothing  he  attempted  counted.  It  was  all  trivial,  tem 
porary,  beside  the  great  stakes  for  which  Europe  was 
struggling.  The  minds  of  his  readers  were  there,  not 
in  Sabinsport.  It  was  so  even  in  the  mills  and  fac 
tories,  where  the  men  and  women  of  a  dozen  nationali 
ties  watched  the  contest  and  not  his  efforts  to  fight  what 
he  insisted  was  their  battle.  What  he  did  not  sense 
was  that  these  grave  laboring  people  were  slowly  real 
izing  that  their  battle  was  being  fought  overseas. 
They  could  not  have  told  you  how  or  why,  perhaps,  but 
feel  it  they  did;  and  every  letter  from  those  of  their 
number  in  the  war  fed  the  idea.  It  grew  amazingly 
in  the  mines  after  Nikola  came  back  with  his  tale  of  a 
nation  driven  into  the  sea.  Such  things  should  not  be. 
Were  not  the  Allies  fighting  to  put  an  end  to  them,  to 
punish  those  that  dared  attempt  them?  If  so,  was  that 
not  the  common  man's  battle? 

The  only  discussion  Ralph  carried  on  in  this  period 
which  really  stirred  Sabinsport  was  his  defense  of  the 
Federal  Administration's  dealings  with  Germany.  He 

169 


170          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

was  as  violent  in  upholding  its  policy  as  his  own  party 
was  in  abusing  it.  Not  that  he  was  any  more  willing 
to  yield  the  nation's  rights  under  international  law 
than  his  Progressive  leader,  but  he  believed  with  all  his 
obstinate,  passionate  soul  that  these  rights  could  be 
preserved  without  war.  He  upheld  every  successive 
note,  pointing  exultantly  to  their  skill  in  cornering  Ger 
many,  in  forcing  admissions  and  submission  from  her. 
"  And  not  a  gun  fired,"  he  always  cried. 

Under  his  eloquent  leadership,  the  town  became  fa 
miliar  with  every  point  and  every  fact  in  the  long- 
drawn-out  controversy.  The  interest  was  such  that  full 
sets  of  documents  were  to  be  found  in  more  than  one 
unlikely  place.  Thus  Sam  Peets,  the  barber  at  the  Par 
adise,  had  all  that  mattered  in  the  drawer  under  his  big 
glass  in  front  of  his  chair,  his  repository  for  years  for 
whatever  interested  him  in  public  affairs.  And  if  any 
body  questioned  or  mis-stated  either  the  position  of 
Germany  or  the  United  States,  Sam  would  stop,  what 
ever  the  condition  of  his  client's  face,  and  pull  out  the 
document  which  settled  the  matter.  Captain  Billy  al 
ways  carried,  stuffed  in  disorder  in  his  overcoat  pocket, 
most  of  the  essential  papers;  and  there  was  more  than 
one  man  in  the  wire  mill  that  had  them  tucked  away  in 
some  safe  place  in  his  working  clothes  or  some  hidden 
corner  of  the  great  shop. 

But  the  machinery  which  Ralph  applauded,  and  in 
which  Sabinsport  certainly  wanted  to  trust,  did  not 
work  smoothly.  Again  and  again  the  pledges  on  which 
we  rested  were  violated;  and  then,  in  the  spring  of 
1916,  when  the  town's  heart  was  still  big  with  anxiety 
over  the  fate  of  Paris,  came  the  sinking  of  the  Sussex, 
and  the  cynical  declaration  of  one  of  the  German  lead 
ers  in  frightfulness  that  henceforth  there  should  be 
"  unlimited,  unchecked,  indiscriminate  torpedoing,  di 
rected  against  every  nationality  and  every  kind  of  ship." 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          171 

Germany  yielded  at  the  prompt  threat  of  the  United 
States  to  break  with  her.  She  yielded,  promised  all  we 
asked  —  reparation,  right  of  search,  faithful  attention 
to  the  laws  of  the  sea  as  they  had  been  at  the  coming  of 
war.  But  Dick  had  felt  at  the  time  that  Sabinsport,  as 
a  whole,  would  have  been  much  better  satisfied  if  the 
victory  over  Germany  in  the  matter  of  the  Sussex  had 
been  a  victory  of  guns  rather  than  of  notes.  Certainly 
Uncle  Billy  and  Patsy  and  those  who  followed  them 
felt  so,  and  said  so  — •  Patsy  with  such  insistence  that 
Ralph  who,  throughout  the  spring  had  been  honestly 
trying  to  cultivate  control  in  her  company,  broke  out 
hotly  one  day: 

'  You  ought  to  be  proud  of  our  victory,"  he  de 
clared;  "  a  victory  of  civilized  methods  instead  of  bar 
barous  ones,  but  to  hear  you  talk  one  wouldn't  dream 
that  you  had  ever  heard  of  it.  Why,  Patsy,  we're  the 
only  nation  that  has  won  a  victory  over  Germany  since 
the  war  began.  We've  made  her  give  up  the  very 
weapons  on  which  she  counted  most,  and  we've  done  it 
without  a  soldier  or  a  gun." 

"  A  victory!  "  sniffed  Patsy;  "  you'll  see  she's  given 
in  because  the  English  were  getting  ahead  of  her. 
She'll  come  back  to  it  again.  She  lies.  Wasn't  I  in 
Belgium  when  — " 

"  Good  Lord,  Patsy,  can't  you  ever  for  a  moment 
forget  Belgium?  You  don't  know  yet,  nor  does  any 
one,  the  real  provocation  the  Germans  had." 

At  which  Patsy,  white  with  rage,  left  the  room,  but 
only  to  talk  more  and  more  vehemently,  while  Ralph 
the  next  day  published  an  editorial  in  the  Argus  which 
was  long  remembered.  He  called  it  "  The  Unpopu 
larity  of  Civilization." 

In  the  course  of  it  he  said: 

"  How  small^  a  place  civilization  has  in  the  hearts 
and  understandings  of  vociferous  America  has  been 


172          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

most  vividly  and  interestingly  demonstrated  in  recent 
weeks.  As  an  exhibit  of  its  unpopularity,  the  reception 
the  settlement  of  our  struggle  with  Germany  has  met 
surpasses  anything  that  I  remember  in  our  history. 
We  were  and  had  been  for  a  year  in  a  critical  case. 
We  had  undertaken  to  force  a  great  power  to  admit 
that  she  was  violating  international  law,  and  to  exact 
from  her  a  promise  to  obey  it. 

"  There  were  two  methods  of  attempting  to  secure 
a  reinstatement  of  the  broken  law.  One  was  by  arms. 
It  was  possible  to  say,  '  Withdraw  your  ambassador. 
We  fight  for  our  right.'  That  way  men  have  been  try 
ing  for  more  than  a  century  to  do  away  with.  Civili 
zation  means  doing  away  with  it  —  substituting  reason 
for  force,  brains  for  fists,  ballots  for  bullets.  Vocifer 
ous  America  subscribes  to  this  ambition.  Indeed  she 
says  that  it  is  for  the  sake  of  compelling  this  substitu 
tion  —  insuring  it  —  that  she  wants  armies  and  navies. 
If  this  be  so  —  if  she  does  so  love  civilization,  why 
then,  when  she  sees  the  complete  success  of  civilized 
machinery,  is  she  so  sore? 

"  Nobody  denies  that  it  has  been  a  victory.  It  is 
doubtful  if  we  have  ever  had  a  victory  of  diplomacy 
that  compared  with  it.  England  and  France  say  so. 
We  know  in  our  hearts  it  is  a  rousing  victory. 

"  Suppose  that  instead  of  forcing  an  abandonment  of 
the  methods  which  we  contended  were  contrary  to  the 
laws  of  nations  by  arbitration  as  we  have  done,  we  had 
forced  it  by  the  use  of  guns  —  is  there  any  doubt  that 
vociferous  America  would  have  exulted  —  would  have 
been  thrilled? 

"  '  It  took  so  long,'  they  say.  Several  of  the  great 
est  nations  in  the  civilized  world  have  been  trying  twice 
as  long  to  settle  a  dispute  by  war  and  no  end  is  in  sight. 
4  They  may  break  their  compact  any  day  and  we  have 
to  fight.'  Sure  —  but  compacts  settled  by  war  do  not 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  173 

always  hold.  War  means  more  war.  Italy  could  not 
be  held  from  the  present  horror.  She  remembered 
earlier  wars.  This  war  settles  nothing.  When  ex 
haustion  comes  and  arbitration  begins  —  it  will  be  by 
its  wisdom  that  the  terms  of  peace  will  be  measured, 
not  by  the  sons  slaughtered,  the  villages  in  ruins,  the 
debts  only  piled  on  future  generations. 

"  *  It  shames  us  to  be  at  peace.'  Does  it?  Why? 
We  have  fought  with  our  brains  for  the  rights  not  only 
of  ourselves  but  for  all  nations.  We  have  won.  The 
rights  of  all  nations  of  the  earth  are  firmer  because  of 
our  victory.  But  greater  still  in  far-reaching  import 
ance  is  the  demonstration  of  what  arbitration  can  do. 
It  will  make  all  civilized  methods  easier  to  use  in  the 
future.  We  have  set  peaceful  ways  ahead  on  the  earth 
and  done  it  at  a  time  when  all  law,  all  humanity,  all 
control  between  nations  was  in  danger  of  breaking 
down. 

'Why  is  there  so  little  pride  in  the  achievement? 
There  seems  to  be  but  one  explanation.  We  are  civ 
ilized  only  in  our  skin  —  not  clear  through  that.  We 
don't  like  civilization.  We  prefer  to  fight.  We  are 
afraid,  too,  of  what  other  peoples  that  do  and  are  fight 
ing  will  think  of  us.  They  will  think  we  are  cowards. 
They  and  we  say  that  *  he  who  conquereth  his  spirit 
is  greater  than  he  who  taketh  a  city,'  but  that's  for  the 
gallery.  We  do  not  believe  it. 

Civilization  is  unpopular  with  vociferous  Amer 


ica." 


Patsy  was  very  personal  about  it.  "  That  settles  it," 
she  told  Dick.  "I  shall  never  see  Ralph  Gardner 
again.  ^  He  might  just  as  well  tell  me  to  my  face  that 
I'm  uncivilized." 

"  She  is  uncivilized,"  Ralph  shouted  when  Dick  re 
ported  on  his  questioning  how  personal  Patsy  was  over 


174          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

his  article.  "  Emotionalism  has  made  her  harsh,  cruel, 
unseeing.  It  is  horrifying  that  any  woman  should  want 
war  —  contrary  to  their  nature.  There  would  be  no 
wars  if  women  could  have  their  way." 

'  You  read  that  in  a  book,  Ralph.  Patsy  is  a  per 
fectly  normal  woman  —  that  is,  she  cries  to  defend 
those  that  suffer.  She  has  the  natural  feminine  anger 
towards  those  that  caused  the  hurt,  and  she  wants  to 
fight  them,  to  hurt  them  in  turn.  There  are  as  many 
women  as  men  in  Sabinsport  to-day  eager  to  get  into 
the  war.  There'll  be  more  and  more  of  them,  and 
when  we  do  go  in  they  will  be  as  vindictive  and  merci 
less  as  the  men." 

But  Ralph  hooted  at  the  notion.  "  You  are  think 
ing  of  a  cave  woman,  Man  —  not  of  her  of  the  twen 
tieth  century.  Women  never  will  support  war.  I  tell 
you,  Patsy  is  not  normal.  Her  whole  nature  is  dis 
torted  by  what  she  saw  in  Belgium.  Sometimes  I 
think  she  is  a  bit  crazy." 

"  Jealous,"  said  Dick  to  himself.  "  Jealous  of  Bel 
gium  !  Lord,  was  there  ever  such  a  courtship !  " 

There  were  to  be  many  of  them  before  the  war  was 
over.  Something  greater  in  meaning  was  sweeping 
through  the  hearts  of  men  and  women  than  even  their 
most  precious  personal  desires.  They  could  not  have 
told  from  whence  it  came  or  what  it  was  —  this  fierce, 
overwhelming  necessity  to  sacrifice  themselves ;  but  they 
could  not  escape.  That  way  only  was  peace  and  safety 
and  honor.  The  loves  of  men  and  women  bent  before 
the  flood.  Patsy  had  been  caught  in  the  onrush.  She 
could  not  escape  —  would  not,  though  her  heart  was 
breaking  over  Ralph's  contempt  for  her  great,  con 
suming  passion.  What  she  did  not  realize  at  all,  and 
what  Dick  could  not  make  her  see,  was  that  Ralph  him 
self  had  in  these  last  years  been  swept  away  by  a  splen 
did,  unselfish  ideal  akin  to  her  own,  that  all  his  efforts  in 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          175 

Sabinsport  had  been  to  realize  his  hopes,  that  the  war 
had  stripped  him  of  his  cause,  and  that  he  had  not  as  yet 
found  his  way  out  of  the  ruins.  It  was  all  meaningless 
to  Patsy.  She  could  not  realize  that  he  could  no  more 
abandon  his  great  cause  than  she  hers,  and,  as  he  re 
sented  Belgium,  she  resented  his  absorption  in  interests 
which  had  never  stirred  her  soul. 

Ralph  had  one  refuge  left  at  this  moment.  It  was 
that  the  party,  to  which  four  years  before  he  had  given 
an  allegiance  that  was  little  short  of  a  dedication,  would 
at  its  convention  in  June  again  sound  the  high  note  it 
had  struck  four  years  before.  He  went  to  Chicago 
with  a  despairing  hope  that  he  would  there  hear  some 
hearty^  strong  expression  of  faith  in  the  things  which 
were  his  passion,  sorne  definite  plan  for  rescuing  them 
from  the  maw  of  the  war.  If  he  did  not  —  "  Well," 
he  told  himself,  "  there's  no  place  for  me  in  the  world." 

'  Don't  count  on  there  being  anything  there  that  you 
can  follow,  Ralph,"  Dick  had  told  him.  "  The  back 
bone  of  that  program  is  military,  all  that  is  modern 
in  it  is  a  reminiscence  of  1912.  Don't  deceive  your 
self.  Your  party  at  least  is  practical  enough  to  admit 
that  there  is  war  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  that  men 
everywhere  must  deal  with  it,  which  you  will  not." 
^  The  convention  was  a  cruel  ordeal  for  Ralph. 
There  he  saw  go  down  not  only  an  idol,  but  the  group 
behind  him,  in  whom  he  and  so  great  a  body  had  had 
faith.  There  he  saw  shattered  his  hope  of  speedily 
building  into  party  gospel  new  and  kindlier  and  more 
just  practices  between  men,  greater  protection  for 
women  and  children,  enlarged  opportunities  for  happy, 
satisfied  living. 

Ralph  came  back  from  Chicago  sore  and  humble. 

^  It  was  a  cowardly  abandonment  of  something 
which  had  come  to  be  for  me  a  religion,  Dick.  I  think 
it  was  the  greatest  thing  I  ever  felt  —  that  thing  which 


176          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

happened  in  1912.  It  was  to  make,  what  I  thought  it 
meant  come  true,  in  Sabinsport  that  I've  worked.  It's 
all  over.  I've  no  leader  and  no  party.  I  don't  know 
where  I  am  in  the  world.  I'm  utterly  lost.  What's 
the  matter  with  me?  Tell  me  square,  as  you  see  it. 
What's  the  matter,  that  I  can't  get  my  fingers  on  this 
war,  that  I  can't  feel  it  my  affair?  I  believe  I've  got 
to  do  that,  Dick,  or  give  up  the  Argus  —  for  the 
war's  getting  Sabinsport.  What  ails  me?  " 

It  was  a  very  humble  Ralph  that  listened  to  the  quiet 
voice  of  the  man  whom  he  knew  to  be  his  best  friend, 
the  man  who  at  least  had  never  wavered  in  affection  in 
these  long  months  when  the  two  had  been  so  asunder 
in  aim  and  in  thought.  Dick  had  taken  their  differ 
ences  for  granted,  he  had  never  disputed,  never  been 
angry.  It  was  always  possible  to  talk  frankly  to  Dick 
without  impassioned  or  angry  rejoinders.  If  that  had 
only  been  possible  with  Patsy ! 

Now  that  Ralph  had  fairly  put  the  question, 
"  What's  the  matter  with  me  ?  "  his  friend  did  not  spare 
him. 

"  Egotism  is  the  matter  with  you,  Ralph.  You  re 
fuse  to  recognize  that  a  time  has  come  when  the  world 
has  different  interests  from  those  which  you  think  it 
ought  to  have.  You  have  been  going  on  the  theory 
that  the  one  thing  that  is  wrong  in  the  world  is  the  cor 
rupt  and  stupid  relation  between  business  and  politics 
which  has  done  so  much  mischief  in  this  country.  So 
far  you  have  been  unwilling  to  admit  that  any  other 
form  of  evil  existed  on  earth  and  the  only  way  you  were 
willing  to  fight  this  was  your  own  way.  You  had  se 
lected  your  enemy,  you  had  laid  out  your  weapons. 
You  would  not  consent  to  see  other  enemies  or  other 
weapons.  You  have  considered  every  other  interest 
that  occupied  men  and  women  as  an  usurper,  an  in 
truder.  The  war  called  attention  away  from  your  fight 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          177 

for  righteousness  —  therefore  it  must  not  be  tolerated. 
You  refused  even  to  study  the  catastrophe.  You  took 
the  easy,  intellectual  way  of  the  pacifist  - —  war  is  wrong, 
therefore  I  won't  try  to  understand  this  war. 

"  You've  wanted  Germany  to  be  right  because  she 
had  been  right  in  certain  things  you  had  at  heart.  You 
picked  out  those  things  and  would  not  see  their  place 
in  her  scheme.  You  rage  at  the  use  some  of  the 
mills  and  mines  make  of  welfare  work;  their  efforts  to 
turn  attention  from  a  just  distribution  of  profits,  free 
discussion,  full  representation,  by  improving  conditions. 
I  tell  you,  Ralph,  that  is  Germany's  use  for  all  her  so 
cial  and  industrial  machinery.  It  carries  with  it  no 
honest  effort  to  appraise  the  value  of  the  man's  con 
tribution  and  see  that  he  gets  it;  no  determination  to 
give  him  a  free  voice  and  a  free  vote;  no  attempt  to 
arouse  him  to  exercise  his  opinion,  get  from  himself 
whatever  he  has  in  him  that  may  contribute  to  the 
whole.  It  fits  him  into  a  scheme;  all  of  whose  material 
profits  and  privileges  go  to  a  selected  few.  Your  in 
dustrial  welfare  jugglers  are  a  perfect  type  of  German 
rule.  But  you  were  so  obstinate  in  your  determination 
to  have  it  as  you  wanted  it  that  you  would  not  see  the 
likeness.  It  has  been  your  opinion,  your  propaganda, 
your  desires,  that  you  clung  to  at  a  time  when  the  very 
core  of  things  just  and  decent  in  the  world  was  attacked. 
'  Why,  why  should  as  sensible  a  fellow  as  you  settle 
back  on  your  particular  interest  in  life  as  something 
permanent  and  essential,  something  to  be  done  before 
anything  else,  and  rather  than  anything  else?  How,  in 
heaven's  name,  can  you  suppose  your  conclusions  are 
the  final  and  supreme  ones?  How  can  you  expect  the 
world  to  give  you  right  of  way?  Why,  boy,  if  you 
read  your  books,  you  must  know  that  since  the  begin 
ning,  men  setting  out  to  do  one  thing  have  had  to  do 
another.  No  man  has  any  assurance  that  the  thing 


178          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

to  which  he  has  laid  his  hand,  however  noble,  however 
beneficent,  may  not  be  whisked  out  of  the  way  like  a 
toy.  What  is  your  way  or  mine  to  the  sweating  world? 
It  turns  up  now  one  side  and  now  another  in  its  endless 
war  for  righteousness  —  it  asks  for  this  method  now, 
and  now  for  that;  to-day  for  war  by  words,  and  to 
morrow  for  war  with  fists.  You  can't  choose  either 
where  you'll  fight  for  righteousness  or  how,  Ralph; 
you  can  only  say  you  will  fight  for  it  —  that  much  is  in 
your  power  —  but  where?  Insist  on  your  place,  and 
before  you  know  it  you  are  alone  without  helper  or 
enemy  —  the  fight  has  changed  its  field,  its  colors,  its 
terms,  its  immediate  object.  Insist  on  your  method! 
You  might  as  well  insist  the  day  shall  be  fair.  You 
fight  in  this  world,  Ralph,  in  the  way  the  gods  select 
for  that  particular  day.  You  say  you  won't  coun 
tenance  war,  but  what  have  you  waged  but  war? 
When  you  did  your  levelest  to  stir  the  wire  mill  to 
strike  two  years  ago,  what  was  that  but  war  —  gaining 
a  point  by  force?  What  but  war  are  those  campaigns 
of  yours  in  the  Argus?  There's  many  a  man  would 
prefer  to  face  a  machine  gun  to  facing  you  when  you've 
loaded  the  Argus. 

"  It's  a  hateful,  barbarous  thing  —  all  war  by  vio 
lence  is.  To  drive  men  by  hurting  them  is  war,  Ralph. 
Hunger,  contempt,  ostracism,  do  the  work  as  well  as 
Mausers  and  Zeppelins  and  submarines.  Don't  be  a 
fool  any  longer  —  and  by  being  a  fool  I  mean  insisting 
on  things  you  know  aren't  so,  and  on  methods  you  know 
the  world  has  temporarily  flung  on  the  shelf.  That's 
been  your  trouble  —  clinging  to  things  left  temporarily 
behind.  You  say  they're  defeated  —  lost  —  that  all 
the  betterments  you  and  your  friends  had  dreamed  are 
ripped  from  the  world.  Nonsense !  What's  going 
on  in  England  and  France?  The  recognition  of  the 
necessity  of  accepting  as  government  practices  many  a 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          179 

thing  you've  been  turning  Sabinsport  upside  down  to 
get.  This  war  is  righteous  in  aim,  and  all  righteous 
ness  will  be  shoved  ahead  as  it  goes  on.  That's  what's 
happening,  Ralph.  Governments  and  parties  are  ad 
mitting,  without  contention,  the  need  and  the  justice  of 
measures  they've  fought  for  years.  After  the  war 
you'll  find  this  problem  of  yours  half  solved,  and  you 
will  be  forced  to  devise  new  ways  of  finishing  the  work, 
for  believe  me,  Ralph,  you'll  never  fight  again  in  Sa 
binsport  in  the  old  way  —  you  won't  need  to  —  Sabins 
port  is  seeing  new  lights,  dimly,  but  seeing  them." 

"And  what  am  I  to  do?  I'm  not  the  kind  that 
climbs  easily  on  a  new  band  wagon,  you  know." 

"  Ralph,  I  wish  you'd  try  to  forget  the  things  you've 
been  interested  in;  forget  the  Progressive  Party,  for 


instance." 


"  Lord,"  said  Ralph,  "  I  don't  have  to  do  that  — 
it's  gone  —  dead." 

"  Well,  wipe  your  slate  clean,  start  afresh.  Take 
the  world  as  it  is  to-day,  try,  without  prejudice,  to  get 
at  the  things  that  brought  about  this  convulsion.  I 
have  no  fear  of  where  you  will  come  out,  if  you  will  but 
give  up  your  idea  of  trying  to  reconstruct  Sabinsport 
according  to  the  formula  you  have  laid  down.  Incan 
tations  are  useless  now,  Ralph.  You  may  cry  *  Peace ! 
Peace !  '  until  you  swoon,  but  you'll  cry  it  to  unhearing 
ears.  You  can  say  your  formulas  backward  and  for 
ward  and  wave  your  divining  rod  as  you  will,  but  it 
won't  work.  There  is  no  magic  wand  that  is  going  to 
end  this  thing.  Realities  are  at  work,  and  the  greatest 
of  them  is  the  reality  of  hope  —  the  hope  for  greater 
freedom  to  more  people.  When  you  once  understand 
this,  Ralph,  you  will  find  that  you  have  a  religion  far 
greater  than  that  which  the  Progressive  Convention  of 
1912  gave  you." 

"  Of  course  you're  right,  Parson.     You  always  are. 


i8o          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

The  war  has  won.  I've  known  it  would  some  day. 
Don't  expect  much  of  me.  It  will  be  like  learning  to 
walk,  to  accept  the  war." 

Dick  thought  of  the  phrase  often  in  the  days  to  come, 
"  to  accept  the  war,"  and  he  felt  a  profound  pity  for  the 
ardent  idealists  of  the  land  that  had  been  dragged  from 
their  dreams  and  their  efforts  and  had  been  forced  by 
merciless,  insistent,  continuing  facts  to  admit  that  war 
was  on  the  earth.  Neither  their  denials  nor  their  hor 
ror  turned  the  Great  Invader.  He  came  on  as  if  they 
were  not.  They  had  no  weapons  of  eloquence,  of  rea 
son,  of  beauty,  that  lessened  his  might,  slowed  his  step. 
He  was  Power  and  Life  and  things  as  they  are,  and 
they  were  Denial  and  Fantasy  and  that  which  is  not. 

But  Ralph's  effort  to  "  accept  the  war  "  did  not  en 
gross  his  mind  nearly  so  much,  Dick  soon  began  to  feel, 
as  his  effort  to  persuade  Patsy  to  accept  him  —  as  a 
friend,  of  course !  He  was  too  humble  now  to  think 
of  more.  Patsy's  wrath  at  being  classed  with  the  un 
civilized,  as  she  insisted  she  had  been,  had  not  cooled, 
and  Ralph,  so  long  as  he  was  engrossed  with  his  hope 
of  revival  of  progressive  ideas,  had  not  tried  to  cool  it. 
He  had  determined  that  they  could  not  safely  meet, 
and,  as  he  told  Dick,  he  wasn't  going  to  enliven  every 
body's  parties  any  longer  by  quarreling  with  Patsy. 

'  You  certainly  will  take  a  good  deal  of  ginger  out 
of  Sabinsport's  festivities  if  you  do  stop  seeing  her, 
but  you  know  you  will  hurt  Patsy." 

"  Hurt  Patsy!  I  can't  conceive  a  girl  holding  a  man 
who  was  once  her  friend  in  greater  contempt  than  she 
does  me." 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind.  Patsy  suffers  over  these 
childish  breaks  more  than  you  do.  She  really  does, 
Ralph." 

u  But  I  don't  believe  it.  And  no  matter  if  she  did 
feel  it,  it's  no  use.  We've  tried  it  out."  And  there 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          181 

he  let  it  rest  for  many  weeks,  while  he  set  himself  at  a 
stiff  course  of  reading  of  war  documents.  He  had 
resolved  to  read,  he  said,  "  without  prejudice,  and  de 
cide  in  cool  blood  if  the  case  justified  war!  "  Again 
and  again,  however,  as  he  was  attempting  to  follow 
the  Prussian  from  his  start,  as  Dick  had  advised,  he 
found  himself  beginning  with  his  own  advent  in  Sabins- 
port  six  years  before  and  his  first  meeting  with  Patsy 
McCullon  soon  after  she  had  taken  the  position  of 
"  Assistant  to  the  Principal  "  in  the  high  school.  He 
remembered  exactly  how  she  looked  as  she  came  briskly 
into  Mary  Sabins'  handsome  living-room  —  a  straight, 
slender  figure,  brimming  with  life  and  curiosity  —  dark, 
clear  eyes,  dark  waving  hair,  a  nose  with  just  a  sugges 
tion  of  a  tilt,  and  a  mouth  all  smiles  and  good  humor. 
He  remembered  how  full  she  was  of  her  new  work  — 
to  the  practical  exclusion  of  everybody  else's  interests, 
he  recalled  — •  how  she  had  kept  them  laughing  with 
tales  of  the  terror  of  her  first  week;  her  suspicion  that 
her  pupils  knew  more  than  she  did  about  algebra  and 
geometry  and  Latin  grammar.  He  had  gone  away 
without  getting  in  more  than  a  word  on  the  Argus  and 
the  iniquities  of  Sabinsport  and  a  discomforted  feeling 
that  this  young  woman  had  made  the  most  of  her 
"  social  opportunities  "  to  which  High  Town  referred 
with  such  respect. 

He  recalled,  too  —  recalled  it  with  the  German 
White  Book  on  his  knee  —  how,  before  the  winter  was 
over,  his  resentment  at  Patsy's  aplomb  had  passed. 
He  had  learned  to  match  her  lively  reports  of  personal 
adventures  in  her  school  with  as  lively  ones  of  what 
was  going  on  in  Sabinsport's  streets  and  factories.  If 
she  talked  school  reform,  he  talked  labor  reform;  if 
she  urged  improved  laboratories,  he  urged  social  in 
surance.  They  often  accused  each  other  of  not  under 
standing  the  importance  of  their  respective  tasks  and 


182          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

they  as  often  gibed  at  each  other  for  taking  these  tasks 
over-seriously. 

He  remembered  that  he  missed  her  when  she  went 
away  for  the  summer  and  greeted  her  gladly  when  she 
came  back.  Patsy  had  been  nice  to  him  that  second 
winter.  She  had  guests  from  the  East  in  the  fall  — 
"  real  swells  " — people  whose  names  appeared  in  the 
New  York  society  column,  and  he  had  said  to  himself, 
"  She's  certainly  a  corker,"  when  he  saw  with  what 
genuine  hospitality  and  with  what  entire  absence  of 
pretension  Patsy  had  entertained  her  friends  in  the 
ample  farm  house,  giving  them  all  the  gay  country  fall 
pleasures,  quite  to  the  horror  of  High  Town,  who 
would  have  loved  to  have  opened  its  really  luxurious 
houses  and  set  out  its  really  lovely  china.  Patsy  had 
taken  Dick  and  himself  as  her  major-domos  in  her  fes 
tivities  and  had  thanked  him  warmly.  "  Nobody  could 
have  been  nicer  or  more  generous  than  you  and  Dick 
were.  I  knew  I  could  count  on  you.  It  isn't  so  easy, 
you  know,  to  keep  people  whose  business  in  life  is 
largely  amusement  —  though  they  don't  know  it  — 
amused  every  moment  in  a  simple  establishment  like 
ours.  But  they  really  were  happy,  and  it  was  largely 
due  to  you." 

It  had  set  him  up  wonderfully.  But,  after  all,  he 
hadn't  seen  much  of  Patsy  that  second  winter.  There 
was  the  Argus  and  the  growing  printing  business  which 
he  was  determined  should  be  strong  enough  to  support 
any  fight  he  would  make,  no  matter  how  costly  in  ad 
vertising  and  circulation;  there  had  been  the  perplexity 
about  how  and  where  to  attack  next  the  duo  of  rascals, 
as  he  believed  them,  Mulligan  and  Cowder,  whom 
he  had  beaten  once,  but  whom  he  feared  it  was  not 
going  to  be  so  easy  to  beat  again.  Patsy  had  not 
understood  his  zeal.  She  had  been  frankly  disapprov 
ing. 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  183 

"Why  set  the  town  by  the  ears  again,  Ralph?  It 
makes  everybody  unhappy,  and  I  don't  see  how  your 
old  reform  victory  has  improved  things.  Of  course 
the  franchises  ought  to  be  in  the  hands  of  the  town, 
but  you  must  confess  we  get  good  service  and  not  so 
costly.  Wait  awhile." 

He  had  been  very  sore  over  that.  He  had  made 
up  his  mind  she  was  merely  an  attractive,  friendly,  cal 
culating  young  woman.  That  was  the  way  he  felt 
about  her  when  she  went  abroad  in  June  of  1914,  he 
told  himself,  as  he  idly  fingered  Cramb's  little  volume, 
which  he  really  should  have  been  seriously  reading,  if 
he  was  to  understand  Germany. 

And  now,  after  these  two  years  of  quarreling,  how 
changed  Patsy  was  from  the  Patsy  of  Mary  Sabins' 
dinner!  What  a  transformation  from  the  calculating, 
self-sufficient  Patsy  he  had  known  —  this  passionate, 
self-forgetful  champion  of  a  sorrowing  people  !  It  had 
only  needed  contact  with  sorrow  to  break  down  every 
hard  strain  in  her,  to  drive  from  her  mind  every  thought 
of  pleasure  and  profit.  It  was  the  weak  and  broken 
men  and  women  of  that  over-run  land  that  filled  her 
heart.  And  how  lovely  she  had  grown  under  pity  and 
labor  for  others.  He  had  stepped  into  a  church  one 
night,  the  first  winter  of  the  war,  where  she  was  telling 
the  story  of  Belgium.  He  had  done  it  in  spite  of  him 
self,  he  recalled.  And  he  could  see  her  now,  her  face 
flushed,  her  eyes  big  and  dark  with  pity,  her  hands 
suddenly  and  unconsciously  pressed  to  her  bosom  as  she 
rehearsed  the  story  of  a  lost  child  —  one  she  had  found 
wandering  in  the  streets  of  Brussels  —  a  refugee  child 
of  whom  no  one  knew  the  name  —  too  little  to  know 
it  himself,  but  not  too  little  to  cry,  "  Mamma ! 
Mamma!  " 

He  remembered  how  it  had  gripped  him  and  how 
he  had  resented  his  emotion  —  how  his  pity  had  turned 


1 84          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

to  rage  that  she  should  be  giving  her  strength  to  these 
distant  orphans  when,  as  he  told  himself  in  jealous  ex 
aggeration,  "  America's  full  of  them."  Oh,  he  had 
been  a  fool. 

It  was  as  Dick  said,  he  had  no  feeling  for  any  or 
phans  but  those  which  were  included  in  his  scheme,  no 
sense  of  any  wrongs  but  those  which  he  had  set  out  to 
right.  What  a  drop  was  all  the  misery  in  America 
to  the  bottomless  well  of  misery  in  Europe  !  And  what 
a  difference  in  trying  to  do  away  with  misery  in  a  land 
of  peace  and  in  one  of  war !  What  was  all  that  he  had 
been  interested  in  beside  the  ghastly  wrongs  that  Patsy 
agonized  over !  Was  he  never  to  see  her  again?  Did 
she  mean  her  last  heated  declaration?  Could  he  make 
it  up? 

When  a  young  man  of  Ralph  Gardner's  sure  and 
lordly  spirit  eats  his  rare  humble  pie,  he  usually  leaves 
no  crumbs.  He  humiliates  himself  to  the  ground. 
Ralph  was  ready  to  do  this  now.  He  would  write  a 
letter,  exposing  his  egotism,  'his  self-centered  narrow 
ness.  He  would  tell  her  why  he  was  so  unreasonable, 
so  boorish.  He  wanted  his  own  way  in  the  world  and 
resented  a  war  that  blocked  it.  He  wouldn't  see  a 
noble  reason  for  the  war  because  the  war  interfered 
with  his  noble  reason  —  Ralph  Gardner's  scheme  of 
social  regeneration.  He  wouldn't  spare  himself,  he 
would  outdo  Dick's  arraignment.  He  would  lay  all 
his  jealousy  and  resentment  at  her  feet,  and  then  ask 
if  she  could  be  his  friend  again. 

But  his  scheme  of  self-abasement  —  elaborated  in 
the  silence  of  his  restless  nights  —  never  found  its  way 
to  paper,  for  Dick  had  determined  that  the  time  had 
come  for  him  to  take  a  hand  in  the  affairs  of  the  two. 
"  They  must  find  out  that  they  are  in  love,"  he  said 
quite  decidedly  to  himself,  u  and  who's  to  help  them 
to  it  but  me?  They'll  never  discover  it  as  long  as  this 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          185 

war  lasts  " —  in  which  Dick  was  wrong,  not  really  be 
ing  versed  by  experience  in  love-making.  . 

He  decided  to  give  a  party.  Now,  since  the  Argus 
editorial  on  the  "  Unpopularity  of  Civilization,"  Patsy 
had  resolutely  refused  all  invitations  where  she  thought 
Ralph  might  be,  and  as  he  was  doing  the  same,  the  two 
had  had  no  meetings.  That  must  be  stopped.  Dick 
called  Patsy  up.  "  I'm  giving  a  party  at  the  Rectory, 
Patsy.  I  want  you.  Ralph  will  be  here  and  that's  the 
chief  reason  I  want  you.  He  is  very  unhappy.  He 
has  had  a  great  blow  — " 

"What?  What?—"  stuttered  Patsy.  "Please 
tell  me." 

"  You  wouldn't  understand,  I'm  afraid.  It's  a  long 
story,  and  I  don't  believe  I  have  a  right  to  tell  you. 
Just  believe  me,  Patsy,  and  help  me  brace  up  a  hard-hit 


man." 


"  But,  Dick,  you  must  tell  me.  I  can't  bear  to  have 
Ralph  unhappy.  Is  anybody  dead?  " 

"  No  —  no  —  Patsy  —  not  that.  I  can't  tell 
you  — "  and  this  amateur  plotter,  to  whom  it  had  never 
occurred  until  that  moment  that  arousing  a  woman's 
curiosity  and  possibly  suspicion  over  the  sorrows  of  a 
man  in  whom  she  was  interested,  was  an  effective  means 
of  kindling  her  passion,  seized  the  opening  and  put  a 
world  of  mystery  and  meaning  into  his  tone  as  he  re 
peated,  "  I  cannot  tell  you." 

:'  But  I  cannot  meet  him.  You  know  how  Ralph 
despises  me?  " 

'  But,  Patsy,  I  know  he  does  not.  He  comes  close 
to  adoring  you." 

'  What  nonsense !  From  you,  too  !  What  assur 
ance  can  I  have  that  he  won't  fly  into  a  rage  and  berate 
me  for  knitting —  for  I  shall  bring  my  knitting?  " 

"  Do  —  do  —  and  I'll  be  responsible  for  Ralph. 
You'll  come?" 


1 86          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

"  Ye-e-es." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  this  intriguing  parson,  "  if  I'm 
interfering  with  the  work  of  the  gods,  and  shall  make 
the  usual  mess  of  it." 

But  he  stuck  to  his  plan,  and  that  afternoon  when  he 
dropped  into  the  Argus  office  casually  suggested  that  he 
was  giving  a  party  and  that  Ralph  was  to  come.  "  And 
Patsy  is  to  be  there,  and  you  are  not  to  quarrel  with 
her." 

"  Does  Patsy  know  I'm  coming?  "  Ralph  asked  anx 
iously. 

"  She  does,  and  she  consents." 

;<  I  wonder  why,"  reflected  Ralph. 

"  How  should  I  know  the  vagaries  of  Patsy's  mind," 
the  parson  replied. 

It  was  funny,  Dick  told  himself  after  it  was  over, 
the  formal  good  behavior  of  the  two,  the  conscious 
restraint  that  said  louder  than  words  throughout  din 
ner,  "  I  shall  not  be  the  one  to  offend."  Patsy  skated 
away  from  the  war  in  haste  whenever  there  was  even 
a  possibility  of  its  getting  into  the  conversation.  She 
invented  an  interest  in  the  condition  of  the  girls  at  the 
munition  plant,  and  she  was  gentleness  itself  in  her 
questions  and  answers  to  Ralph.  The  girl  was  really 
touched  by  the  change  in  the  looks  and  the  manner  of 
the  young  man.  He  was  paler  than  she  had  ever  seen 
him.  It  was  not  unbecoming  to  the  big  fellow,  but  it 
was  a  little  pathetic  —  to  Patsy.  He  was  quieter,  less 
talkative,  not  at  all  assertive.  "  Something  has  gone 
out  of  him,"  Patsy  told  herself.  What  was  it?  And 
it  was  not  strange  at  all  that  she  should  have  said  to 
herself,  "  There's  been  a  girl  somewhere,  and  he's  lost 
her."  She  wondered  if  it  could  be  that  the  girl  had 
like  herself  believed  in  Belgium  and  France.  Perhaps 
she  was  a  nurse  and  had  insisted  on  going,  and  Ralph 
had  broken  with  her.  He'd  do  that,  she  thought  to 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          187 

herself,  with  a  stiffening  spine  which  she  immediately 
limbered,  when  she  caught  his  eyes  on  her. 

As  for  Ralph,  he  had  come  prepared  to  be  very,  very 
polite  to  Patsy.  He  would  not  force  her  attention,  he 
would  talk  only  about  the  things  he  knew  she  was  in 
terested  in  and  he  would  agree  with  her  if  it  choked 
him.  But  somehow  he  found  himself  talking  quite 
freely  of  things  he  was  interested  in  and  which  Patsy 
herself  had  led  him  to.  He  talked  well  and  reasonably 
of  the  munition  plants,  and  he  didn't  take  a  single  fling 
at  "  welfare  work."  He  was  amazed  how  all  these 
things  seemed  to  have  fallen  into  relation  to  other 
things,  or,  rather,  how  there  seemed  to  be  other  things 
as  well. 

And  Patsy's  eyes  —  he  softened  and  trembled  under 
them.  They  were  so  gentle  and  half-pitying.  What 
in  the  world  could  it  mean?  He  knew  well  enough 
that  back  in  that  active  little  brain  something  was  re 
volving —  something  about  him.  But  never  in  his  life 
would  he  have  figured  out  that  Patsy,  as  she  sat  quietly 
discussing  Sabinsport  factories,  was  building  a  romance 
of  which  he  was  the  broken-hearted  villain  and  a  fair- 
haired  nurse  in  France  the  broken-hearted  heroine. 

After  dinner,  when  they  had  gathered  in  the  parson's 
big  library  for  a  talk,  Patsy  had  another  surprise,  for 
now  Ralph  was  almost  ostentatious  in  the  interest  he 
showed  in  Dick's  war  library  —  a  collection  which 
would  have  been  remarkable  anywhere,  but  which  was 
particularly  noticeable  here,  five  hundred  miles  from 
the  sea.  It  included  files  of  Forwaerts,  of  Le  Temps, 
Le  Matin,  London  Times,  of  political  weeklies  of  many 
countries,  besides  scores  and  scores  of  pamphlets  and 
books.  Again  and  again  in  the  past  two  years,  Dick 
had  urged  his  friend  to  use  his  library.  "  You  have 
no  right  as  a  citizen  of  a  country  which  is  getting  deeper 
and  deeper  into  this  thing  not  to  follow  the  literature  of 


1 88          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

the  war,"  he  stormed,  but  Ralph  had  hardened  his 
judgment  —  he  "  didn't  believe  in  war." 

Now,  however,  committed  to  an  acceptance  which 
carried  with  it  the  obligation  to  know  and  to  judge,  he 
had  turned  resolutely  to  reading.  Patsy  could  scarcely 
credit  her  eyes  and  ears  when  she  saw  him  pick  up 
book  after  book  —  criticize,  ask  Dick's  opinion,  bor 
row,  say,  "  I've  finished  this  " — "  I  want  to  read  that." 
Where  was  the  pugnacious,  intolerant,  scoffing  Ralph 
she  had  fought  with  for  two  years  ?  There  could  be  no 
fighting  with  this  man.  He  was  too  meek  a  seeker 
after  knowledge,  too  hesitant,  and  apologetic  in  ex 
pressing  opinions.  Certainly  something  had  happened 
to  him. 

Two  equally  puzzled  young  people  went  home  that 
night  to  dream  and  wonder.  For  many  weeks  they 
continued  to  dream  and  wonder.  Ralph's  reserve,  tol 
erance,  meekness,  studiousness  continued.  He  hadn't 
found  himself.  He  was  so  made  that  as  long  as  his 
faith  in  himself  wavered,  as  he  had  no  fighting  ob 
jective,  he  could  not  press  his  interest  in  Patsy.  She 
seemed  as  inaccessible  as  a  new  faith.  And  Patsy,  still 
romancing  over  the  girl  he  had  cruelly  driven  from  him 
because  of  her  noble  devotion  to  the  sufferers  overseas, 
watched  his  changed  attitude  with  anxiety  and  hope. 

And  always,  as  the  weeks  went  on,  each  was  more 
gentle  to  the  other.  Often  their  eyes  met  questioning 
and  fell  doubting,  afraid;  more  eagerly  did  they  meet, 
more  reluctantly  part.  Even  Mary  Sabins,  who  be 
fore  the  war  had  harbored  an  idea  that  Patsy  and 
Ralph  were  "  interested,"  but  who,  since  Young  Tom 
had  gone,  rarely  noticed  anybody's  relations  —  even 
Mary  Sabins  said  to  Tom: 

"  Do  you  know,  I  believe  Patsy  and  Ralph  are  falling 
in  love,  and  the  sillies  don't  know  it." 

Dick    was     satisfied    with    his     interference.     He 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  189 

watched  them  with  almost  a  paternal  feeling.  It  was 
only  now  and  then  that  a  jealous  pang  seized  him,  and 
he  said,  "  Why,  why  is  there  no  one  for  me?  If  Annie 
had  lived." 

But  Annie,  after  all,  was  a  dream,  more  and  more 
shadowy.  The  Reverend  Richard  Ingraham  was  not 
in  love  with  a  dream.  He  did  not  know  it  —  he  who 
had  so  often  commented  privately  on  the  stupidity  of 
his  friend  Ralph  —  but  he  was  following  Ralph's 
course,  only  he,  less  reasonable,  was  falling  in  love  with 
a  woman  he  had  never  seen.  It  would  not  have  been 
so,  I  am  convinced,  if  there  had  been  in  Sabinsport  a 
single  girl  known  to  Dick  that  had  the  mingling  of 
charm  and  spirit  that  was  needed  to  win  him.  Surely 
he  would  have  followed  her  as  the  needle  the  pole ;  but 
she  was  not  there.  The  girl  that  did  draw  him  was  a 
girl  overseas,  a  girl  at  whose  name  Sabinsport  raised 
its  eyebrows,  a  girl  whose  father  had  described  her  as 
"  slight  and  fine  and  free  moving,"  and  whose  life,  as 
he  had  been  learning  it  from  her  father  since  their  first 
talk,  showed  her  brave  and  sweet  and  unselfish.  If  I 
know  anything  of  the  ways  of  the  heart,  the  Reverend 
Richard  Ingraham  was  falling  in  love  with  Nancy 
Cowder  —  the  horse-racing  daughter  of  Sabinsport's 
chief  pirate. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  REAL  and  sweet  intimacy  with  Nancy  Cowder 
had  been  going  on  in  Dick's  heart  almost  uncon 
sciously  to  himself.  It  was  natural  that  this 
should  have  been  so.  Curiosity  over  the  girl  had  been 
awakened  when  Patsy  McCullon  came  back  from 
Europe  in  1914  and  gave  an  account  of  her  charm, 
activity  and  associations  —  a  picture  very  different 
from  what  Sabinsport  had  quite  unconsciously  drawn 
for  him.  This  curiosity  had  become  sympathetic  in 
terest  when  Reuben  Cowder  had  first  unburdened  him 
self  about  his  daughter,  and  this  interest  had  grown 
warmer  and  warmer  as  week  after  week  he  read  the 
letters  that  Nancy  was  writing  her  father  from  Serbia. 
The  nature  which  revealed  itself  so  frankly  in  these 
letters  was,  Dick  realized,  something  rarely  sweet  and 
strong.  He  grew  as  the  weeks  went  on  to  watch  for 
the  coming  of  the  letters  with  scarcely  less  eagerness 
than  Reuben  Cowder  himself,  and  he  dreamed  much 
more  over  them.  The  girl  was  taking  possession  of 
him  without  his  knowing  it.  The  thought  of  her  was 
the  most  fragrant,  penetrating  and  beautiful  that  came 
to  him. 

When  the  great  tragedy  came,  and  she  was  driven 
with  the  host  over  the  mountains,  Dick  suffered  keenly. 
Here  again  his  old  habit  of  creating  a  picture  of  the 
physical  surroundings  tormented  him.  The  pictures 
of  what  was  happening  to  the  girl  in  that  bleak  and  dis 
tracted  land  came  before  his  eyes  as  he  went  about  his 
daily  work,  stinging  him  as  an  unexpected  shot  might 
have  done,  or  wakened  him,  shivering,  from  his  sleep 
by  their  horrible  realism.  His  anxiety  became  so  great 

190 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          191 

in  the  early  part  of  the  year  that  he  had  almost  per 
suaded  himself  to  join  Reuben  Cowder  in  his  distracted 
search,  when  the  cablegram  came  that  Nancy  was 
found.  Dick  had  a  vain  hope  that  they  might  come 
home  soon,  but  the  first  letters  destroyed  that.  It  was 
only  by  long  and  careful  nursing  that  the  exhausted  vi 
tality  would  be  brought  back,  and  the  girl  probably 
would  never  again  be  able  to  support  long  strains. 
Reuben  Cowder  was  ready  and  glad,  so  he  wrote,  to 
give  up  everything  else  to  the  care  of  his  precious  girl, 
even  to  never  coming  back  again  to  America  if  that 
were  necessary. 

Dick  had  a  great  sense  of  loss  —  one  that  he  did  not 
attempt  to  analyze  or  justify  —  over  these  intimations 
that  it  might  be  possible  that  Nancy  would  never  again 
see  Sabinsport.  When  Nikola  came,  however,  a  dif 
ferent  face  was  put  on  the  matter,  for  he  was  all  confi 
dence  that  Miss  Nancy  would  never  consent  to  live 
away  from  Sabinsport,  that  she  loved  it  above  all  places, 
and  that  the  thing  that  was  sustaining  her  now  was  the 
thought  of  coming  back  with  her  father.  They  had 
many  rare  talks,  these  two,  and  little  by  little  Dick  was 
able  to  piece  together,  down  to  the  last  and  commonest 
detail,  the  weeks  of  danger  and  hardship  that  the  little 
party  had  endured.  It  was  a  brave,  brave  tale,  and  the 
more  he  talked  it  over  with  Nikola  the  prouder  he  be 
came  of  Nancy  Cowder,  and  the  quicker  his  heart  beat 
at  the  thought  of  her. 

Throughout  the  months  when  Sabinsport  was  full 
of  anxiety  over  Verdun,  of  sorrow  over  Mikey's  death, 
of  more  or  less  irritated  activity  over  the  Border  trou 
bles,  Dick  was  daily  going  about  her  streets,  sharing 
in  her  sorrows  and  in  her  perplexities,  always  deep  in 
his  mind  and  in  his  heart  the  thought  of  this  girl  over 
the  seas. 

And   the   girl   herself  —  the   last   thing  that   Dick 


192         THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

dreamed  was  that  she  was  beginning  to  establish  an 
intimacy  with  him.  It  could  hardly  have  been  other 
wise.  Reuben  Cowder  had  a  profound  sense  of  obliga 
tion  to  the  young  man.  For  the  first  time  in  many 
years  he  had  had  a  confidant.  Not  indeed  since  his 
wife  died  had  Reuben  Cowder  talked  freely  to  any  liv 
ing  being.  He  told  this  to  his  daughter.  "  He  is  a 
man,"  he  said,  "  that  you  open  your  heart  to.  I  don't 
know  why  it  is,  but  I  knew  that  I  could  go  to  him  and 
say  what  I  could  say  to  no  other  man  in  Sabinsport, 
however  long  I  had  known  him.  You  get  something 
from  him  —  I  don't  know  what  it  is.  I  suppose  it's 
sympathy  and  understanding.  It  is  not  what  he  says, 
but  it's  a  very  real  thing,  and  everybody  gets  it,  every 
body  in  Sabinsport.  When  he  dropped  down  there 
among  us  at  the  time  of  the  accident  at  the  '  Emma,' 
it  was  to  him  that  all  those  poor  souls  turned,  not  to 
us.  Jake  Mulligan  feels  just  as  I  do  about  it,  and  so 
does  Tom  Sabins,  and  so  does  Nikola  and  so  does  John 
Starrett,  and  even  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pepper.  He's  a  man 
—  a  man  that  seems  to  touch  everybody.  I  suppose  he 
is  what  you  call  human  —  I  don't  know,  but  I  do  know 
that  Sabinsport  is  a  vastly  better  place  to  live  in  because 
of  Dick  Ingraham.  Why,  Nancy,"  he  said,  "  I  could 
never  have  found  you  in  the  world  if  it  had  not  been 
for  him.  I  would  not  have  had  the  courage.  My 
tongue  would  have  been  tied  in  my  search.  I  don't 
know  but  that's  the  greatest  thing  that  Dick  Ingraham 
has  done  for  me  —  he  has  loosened  my  tongue.  No 
body  ever  did  that  before  for  me  but  your  mother." 

And  so,  day  after  day,  as  they  sat  on  their  terrace 
overlooking  the  blue  Mediterranean,  the  man  would 
talk  of  Sabinsport  and  of  Dick  Ingraham,  and  his 
daughter  realized  that  he  was  seeing  the  world  through 
new  eyes  —  his  town,  his  business,  his  future ;  and  her 
heart  grew  big  with  thankfulness  to  the  man  that  had 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          193 

helped  work  this  transformation,  and  more  and  more 
eagerly  did  she  look  forward  to  the  time  when  she 
should  see  him,  when  she  should  know  him  and  could 
thank  him. 

It  was  not  until  late  in  the  fall  that  definite  assurance 
of  a  quick  return  came  to  Dick.  An  exultant  letter 
from  Reuben  Cowder  told  him  they  were  leaving  their 
nook  on  the  sea  for  London,  and  that  as  soon  as  it 
could  be  arranged  they  would  sail  for  home.  The 
certainty  that  Nancy  was  coming,  that  he  should  meet 
her,  after  all  these  long  months  of  intimacy  with  her, 
filled  him  with  an  unreasoning  kind  of  dread.  Might 
it  not  be  that  he  would  discover  that  he  must  give  up 
this  lovely  thing  that  he  had  been  treasuring  in  his 
heart?  It  was  as  if  he  had  been  growing  in  some 
shady,  secret  corner  of  his  garden  a  delicate  and  rare 
plant,  and  that  the  time  had  come  when  he  must  take  it 
into  the  full  sun,  and  he  feared  what  the  change  might 
do  —  feared  lest  it  was  something  that  could  not  en 
dure  the  wide,  roaring  out  of  doors.  There  was  a  real 
dread  in  his  heart  when,  without  warning,  one  night 
early  in  December,  he  listened  to  a  cheerful  voice  which 
he  scarcely  recognized,  calling  to  him  over  the  tele 
phone,  "  Hello,  Ingraham !  —  this  is  Cowder  —  how 
are  you?  "  and  as  he  accepted  the  hearty  invitation  to 
u  come  out  with  me  to-morrow  afternoon  and  meet  my 
girl.'; 

Dick  found  his  friend  much  changed.  Reuben 
Cowder  had  been  what  Sabinsport  called  a  "  sour  " 
man,  a  "  hard  "  man.  He  had  never  talked  except 
when  it  was  necessary,  and  then  so  straight  to  the  point, 
so  bluntly  and  finally,  that  those  familiar  with  him 
feared  his  silence  less  than  his  words.  He  had  a  smile 
which  was  so  rare,  so  joyless,  that  one  would  rather  he 
frowned,  for  the  smile  made  one  sorry  for  him  and 
uneasy  lest  one's  judgment  of  him  as  cruel,  greedy  and 


i94          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

unfeeling  might,  after  all,  need  qualification.  He  had 
a  way  of  walking  with  his  eyes  on  the  ground.  Ralph 
said  it  was  so  nothing  would  distract  his  attention  from 
his  eternal  scheming  to  "  do  "  Sabinsport.  This  stoop 
in  his  walk,  his  grizzled  hair,  his  stern  face,  made  him 
look  old  —  a  "hard  old  man"  he  was  frequently 
called. 

No  one  would  have  described  him  now  as  old,  and 
this  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  his  hair  was  perfectly 
white  —  one  of  the  results  of  his  weeks  of  torture  over 
Nancy's  fate.  Nothing  was  more  noticeable  about  him 
now  than  that  he  walked  erect  with  head  well  back  and 
eyes  that  shone.  If  he  talked  but  little  more,  he  smiled 
freely  and  indiscriminately  at  all  the  world.  The 
change  in  him  was  a  nine  days'  wonder  to  the  town. 
To  Dick,  dining  at  his  side  out  at  the  farm,  it  was  a 
miracle.  "  It's  a  resurrection  of  things  all  but  dead 
in  him,"  he  thought  to  himself,  "  a  marvel  that  only 
love  and  joy  could  work." 

"  I've  told  Nancy,"  said  Reuben  Cowder,  "  that  you 
are  the  best  friend  I  ever  had,  that  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  you  I  don't  believe  I  ever  would  have  found  her  — 
wouldn't  have  had  the  courage  and  faith.  So,  you 
see,  she  is  very  anxious  to  see  you,  and  I  want  you  to 
like  her.  She's  going  to  stay  here  now,  she  says,  with 
me,  and  I  don't  want  her  to  be  lonesome." 

"  She'll  never  be  lonesome  here,"  was  Dick's  first 
thought  at  the  sight  of  her  flying  across  the  lawn  to 
meet  the  car,  a  half  dozen  dogs  at  her  heels.  And 
his  second  thought,  as  they  stopped  and  she  stood  be 
side  them,  was  her  father's  description  of  the  months 
before  — "  so  slight  and  fine  and  free-moving." 

She  was  all  that  —  and  beautiful,  too  —  a  girl  of 
twenty-four,  dark  hair  and  eyes,  a  high-bred  face  of 
delicate  features,  its  fine  coloring  heightened  by  her 
romp  with  the  dogs  and  set  off  by  a  sweater  and  tarn  as 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          195 

nearly  the  shade  of  her  cheeks  as  wool  could  imitate. 
She  gave  a  warm,  firm  hand  to  Dick,  and  looking  him 
frankly  in  the  eye,  said:  "  Father  has  told  me  about 
you.  I  am  glad  you  have  come  to  see  us." 

There  was  no  question  of  being  at  home  with  her. 
She  had  so  simply  and  sweetly  taken  him  in  that  it  was 
as  if  he  had  always  known  her.  It  seemed  entirely 
natural  to  be  walking  up  to  the  house  with  her,  to  stop 
on  the  veranda  and  look  over  the  valley,  lying  now 
brown  and  gray  with  the  broad  river  glittering  through 
it;  to  go  in  to  tea  before  the  great  open  fire;  to  talk  of 
all  sorts  of  things,  the  latest  war  news,  Reuben  Cow- 
der's  day  in  town,  the  dogs,  the  telephone  talks  she  had 
with  Patsy,  who  was  coming  out  Sunday  afternoon  with 
her  father  and  mother,  her  meeting  with  Patsy  in  Lon 
don  two  and  a  half  years  ago,  the  Boys'  Club,  Nikola, 
whom  she  had  run  out  to  see  in  the  morning — "  her 
first  morning,  too,"  thought  Dick,  with  a  glow  of  some 
thing  like  pride. 

In  the  hour,  which  Dick  was  always  to  remember  in 
its  every  detail,  there  was  but  one  alarm.  It  was  when 
Nancy  suddenly  asked : 

"  But  how  about  Otto,  Father.  Did  you  see  him? 
Isn't  he  here?  I  thought  surely  he  would  telephone 
me." 

Dick  thought  she  looked  a  little  hurt,  and  he  knew 
Reuben  Cowder  evaded  when  he  answered,  with  a  quick 
and  warning  look  at  him,  "  He's  in  New  York  prob 
ably.  I  didn't  ask  about  him,  I  was  so  busy.  I  will 
telephone  if  you  wish,"  but  Nancy  said,  "  No,  he  must 
be  away  or  he  would  have  been  out." 

It  was  quite  as  natural  as  everything  else  about  it, 
but  it  raised  a  cloud.  "  She  did  not  know,  then,  that 
Reuben  Cowder  had  quarreled  with  Otto.  She  did 
not  know  there  was  a  question  in  Sabinsport's  mind 
about  his  loyalty.  And  could  it  be  that  she  cared  for 


196          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

him?  What  more  probable?"  If  the  Reverend 
Richard  Ingraham  went  home,  marveling  at  the  sweet 
and  wonderful  companionship  so  fully  and  naturally 
opened  to  him,  there  was  a  decided  uneasiness  running 
through  his  exaltation.  Did  Nancy  Cowder  care  for 
Otto  Littman?  Would  she  understand  the  feeling 
about  him?  Would  she  know,  indeed,  anything  of  the 
stratagem  and  plots  that  the  Germans  had  spun  over 
the  country,  with  what  Dick  felt  was  for  the  most  part 
decidedly  amateurish  and  bungling  skill?  Would  she 
dismiss  the  suspicions  which  connected  Otto  Littman's 
name  with  the  intrigues  as  unfounded  and  unworthy? 
Did  she  care  enough  to  defend  him,  womanlike,  even  if 
it  was  finally  proved  that  there  was  a  serious,  nation 
wide,  Germany-inspired  conspiracy  abroad  and  that  he 
was  connected  with  the  mischief-making? 

It  was  many  months  before  he  was  to  have  satisfac 
tory  answers  to  these  questions.  And  for  the  most 
part  they  lay  at  the  bottom  of  his  mind,  only  working 
their  way  for  brief,  if  troubling,  moments  to  the  top. 
Life  was  too  full,  too  insistent,  too  weighty,  to  give 
time  for  questions  that  did  not  require  immediate 
handling. 

He  saw  much  of  Reuben  Cowder  and  his  daughter. 
The  unquestioning,  affectionate  acceptance  of  him  as 
part  of  their  life  that  had  so  rejoiced  and  overwhelmed 
him  that  first  day,  continued.  It  was  made  the  more 
delightful  by  the  entire  naturalness  of  the  Cowders' 
relations  with  Sabinsport.  Ralph  and  Dick  discussed 
it  again  and  again.  The  town  took  them  in,  and  they 
accepted  the  town  as  if  there  had  been  no  long  black 
years  when  Sabinsport  had  openly  scorned  the  man  and 
his  daughter,  while  it  secretly  feared  him  and  envied 
her;  or  when  Reuben  Cowder  hated  them  all  with  a 
Scotch  hate  because  they  so  utterly  misjudged  his  beau 
tiful  girl. 


.  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  197 

All  of  this  seemed  forgotten  now  —  something  child 
ish,  not  worth  recall,  belonging  to  a  day  when  jnen 
and  women  occupied  themselves  with  lesser  things. 
The  town's  suspicions  had  been  washed  completely 
away  by  the  story  of  Nancy  Cowder's  noble  sacrifice 
and  brave  endurance.  They  plumed  themselves  no 
little  on  the  fact  that  she  belonged  to  them.  The 
change  in  Reuben  Cowder,  who,  if  he  owned  as  much 
as  ever  of  everything  and  ran  it  with  as  high  hand  as 
ever,  did  it  smilingly  and  generously,  wiped  out  fear 
and  old  enmities.  And  as  for  Nancy  and  her  father, 
after  you've  been  where  they  had  been,  resentment 
for  neglect  and  misjudgment  have  no  part  in  your 
soul. 

And  so  the  town  came  together  in  a  way  quite  new  to 
it.  High  Town  and  the  "  Emma,"  Cowder's  Point, 
Jo's  Mills,  the  South  Side  and  the  War  Board  began 
to  connect  up  as  they  never  had  before.  It  was  one 
of  the  strange  ways  in  which  the  Great  War  reached 
Sabinsport  —  stretching  her  mind  to  take  in  facts  never 
before  known  to  her,  softening  her  heart  to  under 
stand  and  sympathize  where  she  had  been  ignorant  and 
hard. 

It  was  time  that  Sabinsport  grew  together,  for  the 
day  was  close  at  hand  when  she  was  to  be  called  upon 
to  become  more  than  a  spectator  in  the  great  tragedy. 
She  watched  with  somber  face  but  steady  eye  as  day 
after  day  the  proofs  piled  up  that  she  could  no  longer 
do  business  with  Germany.  Dick,  watching  her  with 
the  eyes  and  the  heart  of  a  lover,  said  to  himself  that 
when  the  day  came,  she  could  be  counted  on. 

He  was  right.  The  day  that  the  Argus  reported 
that  Germany  had  again  torn  up  a  pledge,  that  she 
had  announced  her  return  to  the  practices  she  had  so 
solemnly  sworn  to  respect,  he  heard  but  one  thing  as 
he  stopped  in  the  groceries,  the  barber  shop,  the  lobby 


198          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

of  the  Paradise,  and  that  was,  "  Of  course  this  means 


war." 


Sabinsport  took  the  breaking  of  diplomatic  rela 
tions,  four  days  later,  almost  in  silence,  but  with  a 
growing  hardness  of  eyes  and  a  setting  of  lips  which 
meant  to  Dick  that  she  could  be  relied  upon  for  what 
ever  she  might  be  called  upon  to  do. 

It  was  Ralph  who  at  this  moment  stirred  the  town. 
For  weeks  now  he  had  shut  himself  away  from  his 
friends,  even  from  Dick  and  Patsy.  The  Argus  had 
been  dull  reading.  Even  those  who  highly  disap 
proved  of  Ralph's  belligerent  attacks  on  the  established 
order  missed  his  outspoken  talk.  They  had  not  before 
appreciated  how  much  zest  he  had  given  to  life. 

Ralph  had  been  giving  nights  and  days  to  the  hardest 
studying  and  thinking  he  had  ever  done.  He  had  been 
saturating  himself  with  the  history  of  Europe,  the 
philosophies  of  the  contending  nations,  their  ambitions 
and  their  procedures.  He  had  succeeded  in  divesting 
himself  from  all  personal  prejudices  and  feelings  about 
the  war.  He  had  achieved  one  of  the  most  difficult  of 
human  tasks  —  a  completely  impersonal,  non-partisan 
attitude  toward  events  which  thrilled  with  human  emo 
tion  and  which  involved  all  of  the  deepest  of  human 
wants  and  human  dreams.  He  meant  to  see  the  thing 
right,  and  whatever  labor  or  pain  was  necessary  to  see 
it  right  he  was  giving.  Gradually  it  unrolled  itself  be 
fore  his  mind  —  the  most  terrific  of  human  dramas. 

Like  Sabinsport,  Ralph  had  come  to  hinge  his  final 
decision  of  what  the  United  States  should  do  on  whether 
or  no  Germany  had  still  enough  sense  of  decency  and 
righteousness  in  her  to  keep  her  given  word,  and,  when 
she  proved  she  had  not,  his  case  was  complete. 

The  day  after  the  news  came  of  her  insolent  an 
nouncement  that  she  would  resume  her  submarine  war- 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          199 

fare,  a  full  column  of  the  Argus  was  given  to  a  double- 
leaded,  signed  article.  It  was  an  article  of  vast  im 
portance  in  Sabinsport,  for  it  put  into  words  the  feel 
ings  that  were  within  her.  It  became  her  statement  of 
the  necessity  that  she  should  at  last  take  part  in  the 
Great  War.  And  it  gave  her,  too,  some  sense  of  an 
issue  far  greater  than  the  defense  of  rights. 

The  article  was  headed  "  A  Confession  and  a 
Good-by,"  and  it  began  with  a  characteristically  blunt 
statement:  "  As  this  is  the  last  piece  that  the  editor 
will  write  for  the  Argus  for  a  long  time,  he  is  going  to 
drop  the  third  person  and  use  the  first.  That  third 
person  always  was  a  cramping  for  him  as  a  dress  suit." 
The  piece  followed. 

"  I  have  always  tried  to  say  to  you  as  nearly  as  I 
could  what  I  thought  about  any  matter  which  it  seemed 
to  me  I  should  discuss  in  this  newspaper.  I  have  often 
failed  to  say  what  was  in  my  mind  —  sometimes  be 
cause  I  attempted  to  write  of  things  of  which  I  did  not 
know  enough,  sometimes  because  I  was  determined  to 
force  your  attention  to  things  in  which  you  were  not 
interested,  and  again  because  I  was  more  interested  in 
converting  you  to  my  ideas  than  in  attending  to  my  busi 
ness,  which  was  the  expression  of  those  ideas.  But, 
whether  I  have  failed  or  succeeded  in  saying  what  I 
undertook  to  say,  I  have  tried  to  be  frank,  especially 
since  the  war  began. 

"  I  don't  think  there  is  anybody  who  reads  the 
Argus  who  does  not  know  how  the  war  has  affected  me. 
I  have  tried  to  believe,  and  to  persuade  others  to  be 
lieve,  that  Sabinsport  need  not  concern  herself  with  the 
war.  I  tried  to  talk  and  act  as  if  we  could  go  on  with 
our  daily  lives  here  as  if  it  were  not  loose  on  the  earth. 
I  thought  that  was  our  duty  —  at  least,  I  wanted  to 


200          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

think  that  was  our  duty.  My  persistency  has  been  due 
mainly  to  the  program  I  had  laid  out  for  myself  for 
this  town. 

"  I  came  to  Sabinsport  eight  years  ago  with  a  plan 
for  her  regeneration.  I  do  not  know  that  a  man  should 
be  ashamed  of  wanting  to  make  a  perfect  community 
in  this  imperfect  country,  but  I  see  now  that  a  man 
should  be  ashamed  of  thinking  that  he  can  force  re 
generation  on  men.  There  is  very  little  difference, 
except  in  the  size  of  the  field  of  action,  between  my 
attitude  toward  Sabinsport  and  that  of  the  Kaiser  to 
wards  the  world.  He  had  a  plan  for  making  what 
he  thought  would  be  a  perfect  world;  I  had  a  plan  for 
making  a  perfect  Sabinsport.  And  I  have  been  in  my 
way  as  narrow  and  as  unreasonable  as  he. 

"  You  have  been  both  tolerant  and  kind  in  your 
dealings  with  me.  If  this  war  had  not  come,  I  be 
lieve  that  gradually  some  of  my  ideas  might  have  been 
adopted  in  Sabinsport;  but  the  war  came  and,  in  spite 
of  my  fierce  gestures  and  loud  shouting,  it  swept  over 
us.  It  threw  me  high  and  dry  out  of  the  current  of 
human  activities.  As  long  as  I  refused,  as  I  did,  to 
go  with  my  kind  and  take  part  in  its  agonies,  it  had 
no  place  for  me.  It  took  me  two  full  years  to  discover 
this,  to  understand  that  my  wishes  and  my  ways  were 
too  puny  for  the  times. 

"  I  would  have  left  Sabinsport  and  probably  been 
sulking  with  the  few  scattered  egotists,  who,  like  my 
self,  think  their  individual  wisdom  greater  than  the 
mass  wisdom,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  one  man  in  this 
community  who,  since  the  war  began,  has  given  his 
mind  and  strength  to  helping  all  men  and  women  in  this 
town  to  understand  events,  ideas,  and  aspirations  as 
they  unrolled.  You  all  know  this  man.  He  does  not 
think  of  himself  as  being  a  leader;  but  we  all  realize 
that  it  has  been  his  wisdom  and  patience  and  suffering 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          201 

that  has  opened  our  eyes.  There  has  been  nobody  in 
Sabinsport  so  humble,  so  ignorant,  or,  like  myself,  so 
selfish  that  he  was  not  his  friend  and  counselor.  When 
I  finally  realized  the  hopelessness  of  my  opposition,^  it 
was  this  man  who  showed  me  the  vanity  and  the  in 
humanity  of  my  position,  and  who  urged  me  to  use  my 
little  training  and  scholarship  in  trying  to  understand 
how  this  human  tragedy  came  about  and  why  there  was 
to-day  no  finer  or  nobler  thing  than  to  take  a  man's 
part  in  it.  For  six  months  I  have  been  following  his 
advice. 

"  I  know  now  that  this  war  came  on  the  world  be 
cause  Germany  willed  it.  It  was  necessary  to  her 
plans.  It  is  no  great  trick  to  show  from  her  own 
records  why  she  wanted  the  war,  why  she  believed  she 
would  win.  Perhaps  the  most  amazing  thing  about 
it  is  that  while  she  has  herself  been  telling  us  for  forty 
years  why  she  must  have  a  war,  we  have  not  heeded. 
The  few  in  France  and  in  England  that  believed  her 
were  cried  down  as  disturbers  of  the  peace.  As  for  us 
Americans,  our  stupidity  has  been  beyond  belief. 
There  is  scarcely  a  college  or  university  in  this  country 
that  has  not  its  quota  of  men  and  women,  educated  in 
Germany,  whose  chief  ambition  has  been  to  demon 
strate  the  superiority  of  her  scholarship  and  of  her 
social  system.  It  was  her  social  machinery  that  cap 
tivated  my  imagination.  Without  ever  having  seen  it 
in  operation,  without  having  any  sense  of  its  relation 
to  her  war  machine,  which  she  never  hesitated  to  tell 
us  was  her  main  objective,  I,  like  thousands  of  others 
in  this  country,  accepted  and  lauded  her.  I  swallowed 
her  whole,  because  she  insured  her  sick,  her  old,  and 
her  unemployed.  All  I  knew  about  that  I  gathered 
from  statistics  and  from  observers  who  had  seen  in 
Germany  only  what  they  wanted  to  see. 

"  It  has  taken  me  all  these  months  to  realize  what 


202          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

Germany's  invasion  of  Belgium  meant,  the  abysmal 
depravity  of  it.  It  has  taken  me  all  this  time  to  un 
derstand  that  her  attacks  on  treaties  and  laws  were  at 
tacks  on  personal  freedom. 

"  I  have  only  to  look  around  in  Sabinsport  among 
our  own  people  to  see  this.  There  is  Nikola  Petro- 
vitch  —  a  sober,  honest,  industrious  man,  who  twenty 
years  ago  was  forced,  in  order  to  earn  bread  for  his 
wife  and  children,  to  leave  a  country  that  he  loved  as 
well  as  any  man  in  Sabinsport  loves  America.  Why 
should  he  have  been  forced  to  do  this?  For  no  other 
reason  than  that  Germany  and  her  kind  wanted  this 
land  which  belonged  to  Nikola.  He  loved  it  so  well 
that  two  and  a  half  years  ago  he  went  back,  and  we 
know  what  he  has  been  through  since.  He  and  his 
people  were  literally  swept  into  the  sea  by  those  who 
wanted  Serbia,  wanted  her  wealth — the  things  that 
belonged  to  Nikola  and  Marta  and  Stana. 

"  And  there  are  many  men  and  women  in  Sabinsport 
from  many  different  lands,  who  have  been  forced  to 
leave  these  lands.  Now  it  is  time  that  this  kind  of 
thing  stopped,  and  the  only  way  to  stop  it  is  for  us  to 
take  a  hand,  and  to  take  a  hand  at  once.  All  the 
documents  are  in.  It  is  for  the  President  of  the  United 
States  to  declare  war  to-day. 

"  The  case  is  closed  for  me.  This  is  the  last  article 
that  I  shall  write  for  the  Argus  until  Germany  is  con 
quered.  This  afternoon  I  enlisted  in  the  United  States 
Army,  and  I  hope  soon  to  be  doing  my  part  toward 
staying  the  evil  which  I  have  so  long  denied  to  be 
loose  on  the  earth." 

It  is  safe  to  say  that  there  was  nobody  in  Sabinsport 
who  took  the  Argus  that  did  not  read  that  article  from 
start  to  finish.  It  is  also  safe  to  say  that  the  one  per 
son  to  whom  it  meant  a  thousandfold  more  than  to 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          203 

anybody  else  was  Patsy  McCullon.     She  read  it  with 

exultant  heart  and  wet  eyes,  and  laid  it  down  only  to 

call  the  editorial  rooms  of  the  Argus.     It  was  Ralph 

who  answered  the  telephone. 

"  Ralph,"  she  began,  "  I  — "  and  her  voice  broke 

in  sobs. 

"  Why,  Patsy,"  he  said,  "  what's  the  matter?  " 
And  then  he  had  a  great  light,  and  for  the  first  time 

in   eight  months,   the   old   dominant  voice   of   Ralph 

Gardner  rang  out: 

"  Patsy,  I'm  coming  right  out.     Will  you  see  me?  " 
And  Patsy  uttered  a  faint  and  broken,  u  Ye  —  s." 

Ralph  flung  himself  into  his  car,  and  started  toward 
the  McCullon  farm  at  a  pace  which  made  those  who 
saw  him  racing  by  say:  "  Something  must  have  hap 
pened.  Wonder  if  there's  been  an  accident."  His 
lips  were  set,  his  eyes  flaming,  his  color  high,  the  great 
hour  of  his  life  was  at  hand.  He  could  go  to  Patsy 
with  a  clear,  clean  purpose  —  the  one  to  which  she  her 
self  was  pledged.  However  long  he  had  been  in  dark 
ness,  he  had  reached  the  light.  He  need  not  hang  his 
head  before  her.  Was  it  too  late?  The  hot  heart 
chilled  at  the  thought,  and  the  firm  hand  on  the  wheel 
trembled  so  that  the  car  swerved  almost  into  the  ditch. 

It  took  twenty  minutes  to  make  the  run  for  which 
they  all  counted  thirty  short.  It  was  nearly  supper 
time  when  he  sprang  up  the  steps.  Patsy  herself 
opened  the  door;  cool,  serene,  her  guards  all  up.  Who 
would  have  thought  the  cheerful,  welcoming  voice  was 
the  same  that  so  lately  had  vibrated  and  broken  over 
the 'phone?  Her  pose  was  lost  on  Ralph.  It  was  not 
this  but  the  voice  of  twenty  minutes  ago  that  rang  in 
his  ears.  She  might  fence  if  she  would.  He  must 
know  —  she  should  not  put  him  away.  He  noticed 
she  took  him  into  the  more  private  parlor  of  the  house, 


204          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

not  the  family  room  where  at  this  time  Father  and 
Mother  McCullon  were  almost  sure  to  be.  She  sensed 
something  then,  in  spite  of  that  infernal  calm. 

Ralph  closed  the  door  and  disdaining  the  chair 
Patsy  offered  him  in  front  of  the  fire,  roughly  seized 
her  arm. 

"  Patsy,  don't  pretend.  You  know  why  I'm  here. 
I  love  you.  I  want  you  to  marry  me,  marry  me  now. 
I've  enlisted.  I  leave  next  week.  I  want  you,  Patsy; 
want  you  before  I  go.  Tell  me,  tell  me,  quick,  Sweet 

—  I  must  know,  I  must  know  now." 

And  Patsy,  her  armor  broken  and  fallen  at  his  first 
sentence,  listened  with  thirsty  heart.  She  drank  the 
words  like  one  whose  lips  are  parched  from  long  desert 
dryness,  and  answered  by  putting  her  head  on  his  shoul 
der  and  breaking  into  happy  sobs. 

A  half  hour  later  a  tea  bell  which  had  sounded  twice 
before  v/as  rung  close  to  the  door  and  Mother  Mc- 
Cullon's  voice  called,  "  Patsy,  your  father's  getting  im 
patient." 

Patsy  put  aside  Ralph's  arms.  "  We  must  go, 
Ralph,  and  tell  them." 

"  But  you  haven't  said  yes,  Patsy." 
'Why,  Ralph  Gardner,  what  do  you  mean?" 
"  But  I  asked  you  to  marry  me  now  —  before  I  go 

—  next  week  —  will  you  ?  " 

And  Patsy  sighing  happily  said,  "Yes,  Ralph;  I 
don't  think  I  could  bear  it  unless  I  were  your  wife." 

They  went  out  arm  in  arm  to  break  the  great  news, 
and  were  not  a  little  amazed  to  see  how  much  as  a  mat 
ter  of  course  the  elder  people  took  it. 

"  It's  time  you  two  sillies  settled  it,  I  think,"  said 
Mother  McCullon,  tears  and  smiles  disputing  for  her 
eyes. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Father  McCullon,  mischievously, 
"  we  may  call  this  the  first  victory  of  the  war,  Ralph. 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          205 

You  would  never  have  got  her  if  you  hadn't  changed 
your  tune." 

But  Patsy  and  Ralph,  looking  at  each  other  wisely, 
knew  better.  The  war  —  why,  what  had  the  war  to  do 
with  their  love?  Already  the  world-old  conviction  of 
true  lovers  submerged  all  history.  Since  time  began 
they  were  destined  for  one  another,  and  neither  war 
nor  pestilence  could  have  kept  them  apart. 

As  Ralph  demanded,  so  it  was.  Four  days  later 
there  was  a  wedding  at  the  farm  —  a  wedding  so  sim 
ple  that  Mother  McCullon  was  shocked.  Both  Ralph 
and  Patsy  would  have  it  so.  "  We  have  no  time  for 
fussing,  Mother,"  the  autocratic  young  man  had  de 
clared,  and  Patsy  was  as  little  concerned.  She  was 
going  with  him.  She  would  find  a  home  as  near  his 
camp  as  practical.  She  would  stay  there  as  long  as 
practical.  To  make  this  possible  without  too  great 
inconvenience  to  those  with  whom  she  worked  in 
school  and  town,  seemed  vastly  more  important  than  a 
wedding.  Were  not  these  war  times? 

But  a  sweeter  wedding  never  was,  so  Dick  and  Nancy 
and  Mary  and  Tom  Sabins  and  the  half  dozen  other 
friends  invited  said.  Everybody  was  so  happy,  every 
body  so  proud,  everybody  so  sure. 

"  It  isn't  often  that  I  marry  two  people,"  so  Dick 
said  to  Nancy  as  they  drove  back  from  the  station 
where  they  said  good-by  to  the  pair,  "  without  some  in 
ward  doubts.  I  haven't  a  shadow  about  Patsy  and 
Ralph.  They  will  work  it  out." 

And  Nancy  said  confidently,  "  I  am  sure  of  it." 

Glad  as  he  was  for  his  friends,  their  marriage  and 
Ralph's  enlistment  threw  Dick  back  again  into  a  black 
and  hopeless  mood.  If  he  could  ease  the  pain  of  his 
longing  for^Nancy  by  getting  into  the  war!  If  he 
could  ease  his  despair  from  the  sentence  to  inaction  by 
possessing  Nancy!  He  felt  that  he  was  one  con- 


206          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

demned  to  eternal  loneliness  and  eternal  rust.  More 
powerfully  than  ever,  as  in  the  distant  day  when  he  had 
sought  Annie  and  found  her  dead  —  or  when  in  August 
of  1914  he  had  sought  to  make  his  way  into  the  British 
Army  and  had  been  thrust  back,  he  was  flooded  with  the 
conviction  that  he  was  doomed  never  to  know  the  great 
realities  of  life.  Not  a  little  of  his  ache  came  from  the 
stir  that  Ralph's  almost  primitive  attitude  toward  the 
war  had  given  him.  Ralph,  once  convinced  that  the  fu 
ture  of  the  world  was  at  stake,  that  it  was  at  bottom  a 
struggle  between  men's  freedom  and  slavery,  that  the 
event  could  only  be  settled  by  war,  had  undergone  a 
startling  change  in  feeling.  He  was  seized  with  a  pas 
sion  for  the  struggle.  He  wanted  to  fight  —  fight  with 
weapons  —  with  his  hands  —  get  at  the  very  throat  of 
this  enemy  of  men  who  had  so  long  masqueraded  in  his 
mind  as  their  friend. 

It  was  his  thirst  for  battle  that  had  made  him  enlist 
in  the  ranks.  When  Dick  had  first  heard  of  this  de 
cision  he  had  questioned  its  wisdom.  "  Why,  Ralph," 
he  said,  "  you  ought  to  go  into  an  officers'  camp. 
You'll  be  needed  there." 

"  No,"  answered  Ralph,  "  I  want  the  trenches.  I'm 
after  the  real  thing.  I  don't  want  to  order  —  I  want 
to  obey.  I  want  the  essence  of  battle,  and  I  don't  be 
lieve  anybody  but  the  man  in  the  line  ever  gets  it. 
Then,  too,  I've  hung  back  all  these  months,  stupid  ass 
that  I  was.  I  want  to  begin  at  the  bottom.  All  right 
if  I  can  work  up,  but  I  want  to  work  up  by  doing  the 
thing." 

Dick  understood.  Thus  he  had  felt  in  those  first 
days  before  the  hope  of  a  part  in  the  war  had  been  de 
stroyed.  He  recalled  how  there  had  been  hours  when 
he  felt  that  nothing  but  the  sight  of  his  own  red  blood 
flowing  would  still  the  passion  within  him.  Ralph  was 
to  have  a  chance  to  grapple  with  death  and  laugh  in  her 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          207 

face  —  the  highest  thing  that  came  to  men,  he  somehow 
felt ;  and  he  would  never  know  it. 

That  he  had  any  more  chance  of  winning  Nancy  than 
of  being  admitted  into  the  army,  he  did  not  believe. 
She  was  bound  somehow  to  Otto,  of  that  he  was  sure. 
In  the  few  months  she  had  been  at  home  he  had  seen 
scores  of  little  things  that  made  him  think  it.  He  al 
ways  remembered  with  a  pang  the  disappointment  he 
thought  he  detected  at  their  first  meeting  when  she  had 
asked  for  Otto,  and  her  father  had  told  her  he  was  not 
in  town.  He  recalled,  too,  how  a  few  days  later,  when 
he  was  alone  with  her,  she  had  told  him  of  seeing  Otto 
the  day  he  returned;  how  he  seemed  depressed,  how 
sorry  she  was,  for  he  was  her  oldest,  indeed  almost  her 
only,  friend  in  Sabinsport.  Dick  felt  as  if  she  were 
sounding  him.  He  gave  no  sign,  only  remarking  that 
the  war  was  sad  business  for  those  who  had  lived  in 
Germany  as  Otto  had  and  who  had  many  friends  there. 

She  had  never  pursued  it,  but  she  spoke  freely  of  his 
visits.  He  never  felt  sure  that  she  sensed  that  hers 
was  practically  the  only  house  in  Sabinsport  into  which 
Otto  now  went.  What  could  make  her  so  interested 
but  —  caring?  What  could  make  Reuben  Cowder  look 
so  grim  when  Otto  was  present  or  when  his  name  was 
mentioned  but  his  belief  that  she  did  care?  Of  one 
thing  he  was  sure,  he  must  give  no  sign  and  he  gave 
none,  though  as  the  spring  days  went  on  and  the  ques 
tion  of  our  going  into  the  war  was  settled  and  Sabins 
port  began  to  prepare  to  take  up  her  part,  the  two  were 
thrown  more  and  more  together.  It  would  have  been 
harder  if  there  had  not  been  so  much  to  do,  and  if  the 
town  had  not  taken  it  so  much  for  granted  that  what 
ever  the  question,  it  was  Dick  who  must  explain  and 
counsel. 


CHAPTER  IX 

IT  was  this  having  so  much  to  do  that  not  only  saved 
Dick,  but  it  had  saved  Sabinsport,  for  Sabinsport 
had  gone  into  the  war  without  enthusiasm.  She  had 
accepted  it  fully  as  a  thing  she  was  obliged  in  honor  to 
carry  through,  but  Dick  felt  more  and  more  that  neither 
her  heart  was  touched  nor  her  spirit  fired.  He  could 
not  get  over  the  chill  that  her  reception  of  the  news  that 
war  had  been  declared  had  given  him  —  not  a  bell  rang, 
not  a  whistle  blew,  not  a  man  stopped  work.  '  Well, 
we  are  in  it,"  they  said  as  they  met  him  on  the  street. 
"  It's  all  right."—  u  Nothing  else  to  do."—  '  I'm 
for  it."  That  would  be  all,  and  the  speaker  would 
walk  away  with  bent  head. 

How,  Dick  asked  himself,  a  great  wave  of  doubt 
coming  over  him,  could  a  town  so  unmoved,  even  if  so 
determined,  ever  carry  out  the  prodigious  piece  of  work 
which  the  Government  asked  of  it,  at  the  time  the  dec 
laration  was  made  ?  They  were  to  put  everything  in  — 
their  sons,  their  money,  their  industries,  were  to  be  con 
scripted.  They  were  to  be  asked  to  change  all  their 
ways  of  living,  and  to  do  it  at  once.  How  could  it  be 
that  a  town,  seemingly  so  unstirred,  would  so  completely 
strip  itself  as  Sabinsport  was  asked  to  do?  Could  this 
determination,  which  he  believed  was  in  her,  carry  her 
through  the  period  of  sacrifice  and  effort?  Was  she  to 
have  none  of  the  help  of  pride,  the  consciousness  of  a 
great  cause?  How  far  would  Sabinsport  go? 

The  first  test  came  when  the  Government  announced 
that  we  were  to  have  an  army  of  two  million  men, 
chosen  on  the  principle  of  universal  liability  to  service. 
"  Never,"  declared  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pepper,  "  would  Sab- 

208 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          209 

insport  stand  for  that."  And  there  were  not  a  few  in 
mills  and  mines,  not  a  few  representatives  of  various 
peace  parties,  that  gathered  about  him.  They  loudly 
declared  in  the  Pro  Bono  Publico  column  of  the  Argus 
that  we  had  been  plunged  into  war  against  our  will, 
that  it  was  still  possible  to  negotiate,  that  the  American 
people  wanted  to  negotiate,  that  the  President  was  play 
ing  a  hypocrite's  part,  that  he  was  a  puppet  of  Wall 
Street,  whose  only  interest  was  to  protect  foreign  loans 
and  to  carry  on  munition  making.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Pep 
per,  encouraged  by  the  swift  gathering  of  pacifists 
around  him,  engaged  the  Opera  House  and  called  for  a 
great  mass  meeting  of  protest.  Sabinsport  should 
have  a  right  to  vote  on  our  going  into  the  war,  if  it  had 
been  denied  to  the  rest  of  the  country. 

What  would  Sabinsport  do?  Dick  asked  himself 
the  question  a  little  anxiously.  Would  she  foregather 
at  the  Opera  House? 

She  would  not.  At  eight  o'clock  on  the  evening  that 
the  meeting  was  called  that  great  forum  contained,  not 
the  whole  town  and  the  mines  and  mills,  as  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Pepper  had  been  declaring  all  day  that  it  would  be, 
but,  by  actual  count,  just  two  hundred  people,  of  whom 
the  Rev.  Richard  Ingraham  was  one,  for  ever  since  the 
beginning  of  his  life  in  Sabinsport,  he  had  made  it  a 
practice  not  only  to  attend  but  to  take  part  in  all  discus 
sions,  whether  held  in  opera  houses  or  on  street  corners. 

But,  as  it  turned  out,  the  two  hundred  were  not  to  be 
allowed  to  take  their  vote  on  peace  or  war  in  the  or 
derly,  quiet  way  which  Dick  himself  insisted  they  should 
have,  for,  before  nine  o'clock,  a  great  tramping  was 
heard  outside,  and  into  the  hall  burst  all  of  the  active 
youth  of  Sabinsport  and  at  least  half  of  its  middle 
aged.  They  carried  banners  on  which  were  written 
in  bold  letters,  "  Right  is  more  precious  than  peace," 
"  The  world  must  be  made  safe  for  democracy,"  "  Ger- 


210          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

many  is  a  menace  to  mankind,"  "  Germany  wars  against 
peace,  we  war  against  Germany."  They  not  only  car 
ried  their  banners,  but  they  brought  their  orators,  who, 
stationed  in  the  galleries  and  on  the  floor,  submerged 
the  protests  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pepper  and  friends  and 
turned  the  gathering  into  a  rousing  declaration  that,  so 
far  as  Sabinsport  was  concerned,  she  was  in  the  war  to 
a  finish. 

Each  successive  task  the  Government  set  provoked 
a  similar  wave  of  protest.  For  days  currents  of  unrest 
would  run  through  the  town,  but  when  the  moment  of 
decision  came  always  Sabinsport  answered  overwhelm 
ingly  in  favor  of  the  Government.  There  was  the 
draft.  As  the  day  of  registration  approached,  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Pepper  and  his  friends  prophesied  riots;  and, 
if  not  riots,  at  least  a  very  general  refusal  to  register  — 
but  every  man  appeared.  They  came  from  the  shops 
and  mines  and  banks  and  schools  —  a  full  quota.  It 
was  unbelievable.  Why  were  there  such  alarms  of  re 
volt  before,  if  in  the  end  there  was  to  be  complete  ac 
ceptance  ?  Reuben  Cowder  had  his  theory. 

"  I  tell  you,  Dick,  the  same  gang  are  at  work  in  this 
town  that  stirred  up  the  feeling  against  munition-mak 
ing,  that  brought  that  Peace  Council  here  and  so  nearly 
put  it  over.  I  expect  Pepper  and  his  friends  to  protest. 
That's  all  right,  they  belong  here.  That's  the  way 
they  feel.  We  can  gauge  what  they  say,  answer  back. 
I  rather  think  they're  good  for  us,  but  it's  not  Pepper 
that  is  making  the  stir  now.  There's  somebody 
spreading  rumors  of  discontent  that  do  not  exist.  Who 
printed  those  handbills  that  rained  all  over  town  the 
morning  of  Registration  Day,  denouncing  the  draft  as 
a  form  of  slavery?  Pepper  didn't.  He  was  as  sur 
prised  as  the  police.  Why  can't  we  get  our  fingers  on 
them?" 

But  clever  as  he  was,  he  did  not  get  his  fingers  on 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          211 

them.  Waves  of  discontent,  threats  of  riots  and 
strikes,  protests  against  liberty  loans  and  food  laws, 
continued  to  agitate  the  town,  filling  it  with  anxiety  and 
irritation.  They  kept  her  distrustful  of  herself,  un 
happy  in  her  undertaking,  but  never  did  they  turn  her 
from  her  resolve  to  do  her  full  part.  Indeed,  it  seemed 
to  Dick  sometimes  as  if  the  direct  result  was  to  drive 
those  of  the  town  who  felt  the  deepest  foreboding,  the 
gravest  doubt,  to  work  the  harder,  thus  really  increas 
ing  the  amount  accomplished.  It  was  this  that  ex 
plained  why,  in  this  admixture  of  irritation,  Sabinsport 
almost  always  did  more  than  her  part.  The  rumors 
and  prophecies  that  she  would  not  respond  this  time 
nerved  her  to  fuller  efforts. 

Just  how  things  would  have  worked  out  in  Sabins 
port,  just  when  and  how  the  war  would  have  found  its 
way  to  her  heart  and  she  would  have  come  to  have  the 
supporting  uplift  of  realizing  the  greatness  of  the  en 
terprise  to  which  she  was  pledged,  Dick  never  quite 
decided,  for  what  did  happen  was  so  largely  shaped  by 
the  news  that  came  to  them  in  the  end  of  June  that,  in 
the  country  twenty-five  miles  away,  the  Government 
had  decided  to  place  one  of  the  sixteen  great  canton 
ments  in  which  the  boys  that  had  been  drafted  were  to 
be  trained  into  an  army. 

Sabinsport  herself  had  had  nothing  to  do  with  secur 
ing  the  cantonment.  It  was  the  only  thing  that  had 
happened  in  that  part  of  the  State  in  the  last  two  or 
three  decades  in  which  neither  Cowder  nor  Mulligan 
had  had  a  hand.  It  was  certain  shrewd  and  powerful 
gentlemen  of  the  City  that  had  persuaded  the  authori 
ties  that  this  was  the  most  perfect  spot  in  the  Union  in 
which  to  place  50,000  men. 

Luckily,  it  was  a  very  good  spot,  though  probably  if 
it  had  been  very  bad,  it  would  have  been  selected,  given 
the  power  that  was  behind  its  support.  The  land  was 


212         THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

rolling,  naturally  drained,  the  river  which  flowed  close 
by  gave,  by  filtering,  a  splendid  water  supply.  An  im 
portant  trunk  line  ran  within  five  miles  of  the  camp, 
making  almost  ideal  transportation  conditions  possible, 
and  this  same  trunk  line  ran  through  Sabinsport. 

It  was  announced  that  the  camp  was  to  be  ready  in 
twelve  weeks  for  40,000  men.  The  town,  accustomed 
to  building  in  a  fairly  large  scale,  gasped  in  amazement. 
Some  jeered,  others  protested.  It  couldn't  be  done. 
It  would  take  twelve  months,  not  weeks,  to  make  the 
place  habitable. 

All  through  the  summer  the  town  watched  the  grow 
ing  cantonment  to  see  how  things  were  going.  The 
highway  which  ran  within  a  short  distance  of  the  se 
lected  land  was  worn  smooth  with  the  cars  which  went 
back  and  forth.  The  Sunday  trains  were  often 
crowded  with  workmen  and  their  wives  and  sweet 
hearts,  and  all  they  saw  increased  their  skepticism.  So 
far  as  they  could  make  out,  it  was  only  a  great  confusion 
of  lumber,  ditches,  turned-up  earth,  scattered  skeletons 
of  buildings;  no  evidence  of  planning.  More  than  one 
observer  came  back  to  say,  sagely,  "  They  don't  know 
what  they  are  about.  It  will  never  be  a  place  in  which 
men  can  live.  And  as  to  being  ready  in  September, 
that  is  nonsense." 

But  ready  or  not,  they  found  that  the  cantonment  was 
to  be  occupied  at  the  time  set,  and  to  their  anxiety  over 
the  incompleteness  of  the  camp,  there  now  was  added 
a  new  concern  —  a  doubt  which  was  hardly  voiced  but 
which  gave  the  keenest  anxiety.  It  was  the  doubt  of 
the  recruits  that  began  to  appear.  "  How  could  you 
ever  make  soldiers  of  such  material?  "  It  was  her  own 
first  contingent  that  had  awakened  this  alarm.  The 
town  had  made  an  effort  to  do  the  proper  thing  when 
the  boys  went  off.  They  were  to  leave  on  an  afternoon 
train,  and  there  was  a  luncheon  given  them  and  a  little 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          213 

parade  through  the  streets.  But  the  pathetic  thing  was 
that  these  lads,  who  so  often  shambled,  so  many  of 
whom  were  poorly  dressed,  all  of  whom  were  a  little 
shamefaced  at  this  effort  to  do  them  honor,  did  not  look 
like  soldiers.  Sabinsport  had  had  so  little  experience 
with  armies  that  she  could  not  visualize  these  country 
lads,  these  stooped  clerks,  these  slouching  workmen,  as 
soldiers.  She  went  back  home  not  a  little  unhappy. 
How  were  we  ever  going  to  make  an  army  from  such 
stuff  in  time  to  do  anything?  That  was  becoming  her 
engrossing  thought.  How  are  we  ever  going  to  do 
anything  in  time  ?  Her  pride  was  touched.  And  there 
was  a  real  but  unspoken  fear  in  Sabinsport's  heart  lest 
we  were  not  going  to  come  up  to  the  mark  before  the 
world. 

There  were  just  two  people  in  Sabinsport  —  that  is, 
two  who  talked  and  were  listened  to,  that  were  not 
worried  about  the  camp  or  the  making  of  an  army  — 
Captain  Billy  and  Nancy  Cowder.  To  Uncle  Billy, 
all  these  boys  were  the  boys  of  '61,  and  every  train  load 
side-tracked  on  the  numerous  switches  that  the  main 
line  had  provided  on  the  edge  of  Sabinsport  in  prepara 
tion  for  the  handling  of  men  and  materials  for  the  camp 

—  every  train  load  filled  him  with  more  and  more  confi 
dence.     "  You'll  see,"  he  said.     "  We  were  like  that 

—  just  you  wait." 

As  for  Nancy,  she  was  amazing  to  Dick.  She  was 
one  of  those  rare  beings  of  unquenchable  faith.  With 
it  went  an  almost  universal  sympathy.  Dick  had  ex 
pected  to  find  her  as  obsessed  with  the  cause  of  Serbia 
as  Patsy  had  always  been  with  that  of  Belgium,  as  deaf 
to  other  calls,  as  impatient  with  Sabinsport's  diffused 
interest  as  Patsy  was.  But  he  discovered  at  once  that 
her  heart  was  open  to  every  cry,  and  that  her  hand  in 
stinctively  reached  out  to  aid  any  human  being  that 
needed  help. 


2i4          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

She  had  not  been  at  home  a  fortnight  before  she  was 
busy  planning  with  Ralph  and  Dick  and  her  father  for 
better  housing  for  the  girls  in  the  factory  around  the 
Point;  with  Jack  Mulligan  for  better  schools  at  the 
mines.  When  war  came  she  was  as  sensitive  as  Dick 
to  what  the  town  was  going  through.  She  realized, 
even  better  than  he,  how  utterly  Sabinsport  was  cut  off 
from  all  outward  manifestation  of  war,  how  she  saw 
and  heard  none  of  its  martial  sights  and  noise.  She 
was  obliged  to  re-create  without  the  help  of  outward 
things.  It  made  the  girl  extraordinarily  sympathetic. 
Indeed,  in  all  Sabinsport  at  this  period  of  uncertainty 
and  alarms  there  was  no  one  who  kept  so  confident  and 
serene  an  attitude  or  who  treated  with  more  humor  and 
commonsense  the  rumors  and  fears  that  ran  the  streets 
or  saw  with  more  practical  eye  the  things  to  be  done. 

It  was  Nancy  who  first  realized  what  a  camp  twenty- 
five  miles  from  Sabinsport  might  mean  to  the  town  — 
the  opportunity  and  the  threat  that  were  in  it.  Nancy, 
it  will  be  remembered,  had  been  in  London  when  the 
war  broke  out.  She  had  seen  Kitchener's  army  grow. 
She  had  lived  with  soldiers,  too,  in  hospitals  and  in 
camps,  and  she  quickly  realized  that  Sabinsport  had  a 
part  to  play.  It  was  to  Dick  that  she  swiftly  went  for 
consultation. 

*  They  will  be  twenty-five  miles  away,"  said  Dick. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Nancy,  "  but  what  is  twenty-five 
miles  with  our  factories  full  of  girls,  and  the  town  wide 
open?  With  all  their  homesickness  and  their  need  of 
friends  and  life,  we  must  get  ready  for  them." 

"  But  how?/'  said  Dick.     ';  What  shall  we  do?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Nancy,  practically,  "  we  women  must 
have  our  canteen  ready  for  their  passing  through." 

But  all  that  Nancy  could  say  at  the  start  had  no 
effect  upon  Sabinsport.  Nothing  in  her  experience 
could  give  her  an  inkling  of  what  it  would  mean  to  have 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          215 

a  camp  of  50,000  men  twenty-five  miles  away.  The 
distance  was  prohibitive.  What  would  they  have  to  do 
with  Sabinsport,  with  the  City  within  five  miles?  It 
was  the  City's  business  to  take  care  of  the  camp,  not 
hers. 

It  was  November  before  Sabinsport  began  to  feel 
any  responsibility  about  the  camp.  By  that  time,  the 
boys  had  discovered  the  town.  Naturally,  it  was  the 
City  so  near  them  that  had  drawn  them  first,  and  that 
continued  to  draw  them  in  the  largest  numbers.  And  it 
was  the  City  which  from  the  start  had  accepted  the  re 
sponsibility  of  guarding  the  boys  who  came  to  her. 
The  City  had  formed  great  committees  of  men  and 
women.  She  had  passed  ordinances,  she  had  opened 
canteens.  Hundreds  of  her  homes  were  open  to  the 
boys,  her  clubs  and  churches  and  halls  regularly  on  the 
Wednesdays  and  Saturdays  when  they  were  off.  The 
City  did  wonderfully  well  from  the  start,  and  the  com 
manding  officer  had  applauded  the  cooperation  that  she 
gave  him. 

In  all  this  activity,  Sabinsport,  twenty-five  miles  away, 
had  not  been  asked  to  help.  It  was  natural  enough. 
The  City  always  had  ignored  Sabinsport.  To  be  sure, 
she  was  a  nice  little  country  town  and  had  a  quaint 
hotel,  with  a  wonderful  cook;  the  best  place  in  the  coun 
try  round  to  motor  out  for  supper.  Sabinsport  had 
always  resented  this  attitude.  She  was  the  older,  she 
had  never  quite  gotten  over  feeling  that  she  should  have 
been  the  City;  she  who  was  there  so  many  years  before, 
and  who  was  responsible  for  the  discovery  and  first  de 
velopment  of  this  wealth  which  now  the  City  handled 
and  from  which  she  so  wonderfully  profited.  That  is, 
Sabinsport  was  jealous  of  the  City,  her  patronage,  the 
fact  that  she  was  never  taken  in.  It  was  partly  this 
that  made  her  unresponsive  to  all  the  pressure  that  Dick 
and  Nancy  brought  upon  her  in  the  early  days  of  the 


2i 6          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

camp,  to  organize,  to  look  after  the  soldiery  that  they 
felt  inevitably  would  seek  the  town.  Always  the  same 
answer  came  back:  "Let  the  City  look  after  them. 
She  has  not  asked  us  to  help.  It's  her  business." 

But,  little  by  little,  she  discovered  that,  although  she 
might  make  no  overtures  to  the  camp,  the  camp  had 
found  her  out  and  was  making  good  use  of  all  she  had 
to  offer  in  the  way  of  pleasure  and  freedom.  The  boys 
had  discovered  two  things  in  Sabinsport,  the  two  that 
Nancy  had  predicted:  that  she  had  factories  full  of  at 
tractive  girls  and  that  her  saloons  were  wide  open. 
The  better  sort  had  discovered  the  Paradise  and  High 
Town. 

The  consequence  of  Sabinsport's  blindness  and  her 
refusal  to  accept  responsibility  heaped  up  every  day  — 
the  girl  question,  as  they  called  it.  There  were  sudden 
marriages  which  shocked  and  distressed  her.  There 
were  no  marriages,  that  horrified  her  even  more.  A 
new  type  of  women  began  to  appear  in  the  streets. 
And  again  and  again  on  Saturday  afternoons  soldiers 
were  taken  back  to  camp,  but  not  to  barracks  —  to  the 
guard  house.  Irritation  and  disgust  with  the  camp 
grew  in  the  town,  and  then,  late  in  November,  sickness 
began.  It  ran  rampant  through  the  camp,  still  insuffi 
ciently  equipped  with  hospitals  and  doctors  and  nurses 
to  handle  anything  like  an  epidemic.  Heartbreaking 
tales  of  deaths,  from  lack  of  care,  it  was  charged,  filled 
the  town.  Nancy  who,  from  the  opening  of  the  camp, 
had  given  practically  all  of  her  time  to  whatever  service 
she  could  put  her  hands  to,  and  who  by  her  common 
sense,  her  skill,  her  sweetness,  had  won  completely  offi 
cers,  doctors,  and  nurses,  now  gave  herself  up  to  regu 
lar  nursing,  coming  back  only  once  a  week  for  a  half- 
day's  rest  —  on  Monday  afternoon  always,  though  no 
body  at  the  time  thought  about  that. 

Dick  practically  spent  his  days  and  nights  in  service. 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          217 

He,  too,  had  from  the  start  been  received  by  officers 
and  doctors  as  one  of  those  rare  civilians,  who  can  be 
allowed  the  freedom  of  a  camp  and  really  help,  not  hin 
der,  its  work. 

But  Sabinsport  was  not  rallying  to  the  efforts  of 
Nancy  and  Dick.  The  town  was  horrified  at  the  things 
that  she  saw  going  on.  She  bitterly  blamed  the  com 
manding  officer,  the  War  Department,  the  Govern 
ment.  She  resented  the  intimations  that  she  had  had 
from  both  the  authorities  in  the  City  and  in  the  camp 
that  her  failure  to  deal  resolutely  with  her  saloons  and 
with  the  strange  women  who  were  finding  shelter  within 
her  limits,  was  a  menace  to  the  boys.  Matters  were 
not  at  all  helped  by  the  kind  of  agitation  which  had  be 
gun  in  the  town,  with  the  hope  of  controlling  the  situa 
tion.  The  center  of  this  agitation  was  Mrs.  Susan 
Katcham,  president  of  an  old-time  temperance  organ 
ization  —  a  good,  aggressive,  tactless  woman,  whose 
main  effect  upon  Sabinsport  had  always  been  to  steel 
even  the  sober  to  the  support  of  the  saloon. 

Mrs.  Katcham  now  had  no  need  to  argue  about  the 
disastrous  effects  of  the  open  saloon.  Every  day  was 
demonstrating  it,  to  the  disgust  and  shame  of  the  town. 
There  was  just  one  man  everybody  knew  that  could  put 
a  stop  to  this  thing,  and  that  was  Jake  Mulligan,  for 
Jake  controlled  the  police,  and  Jake  owned  half  or 
two-thirds  of  the  property  in  Sabinsport  on  which  liquor 
was  sold.  Mrs.  Katcham  went  for  him  openly  and 
viciously,  hammer  and  tongs;  and  all  she  did  was  to 
make  him  take  a  terrible  oath  that  he  would  not  budge 
an  inch  in  the  matter;  that  it  was  the  business  of  the 
camp  to  keep  its  soldiers  at  home,  and  not  his  to  run 
Sunday  schools  for  the  protection  of  grown  men. 

The  tragic  thing  to  Dick  was  that  he  saw  growing  in 
Sabinsport  out  of  this  clash,  an  increasing  distaste  for 
a  soldier. 


218          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

"  Never,  never,"  he  said,  "  would  the  heart  of  Sab- 
insport  be  reached  until  this  was  blotted  out."  But 
what  was  to  be  done.  He  took  it  to  the  commanding 
officer  himself,  and  between  them  they  laid  out  a  plan 
for  capturing  Sabinsport's  heart. 

"  It's  melodrama,"  said  Dick. 

"  It  will  do  the  work,"  said  the  General. 

But  that  was  to  be  done. 

The  execution  of  the  plan,  which  the  General  and 
Dick  had  agreed  upon  for  the  siege  and  capture  of  Sab 
insport's  heart,  was  not  easy,  in  the  pressure  and 
anxiety  which  the  epidemic  in  the  camp  had  brought, 
and  its  probable  effect  seemed  to  both  men  more  and 
more  doubtful  as  the  friction  between  the  town  and 
camp  grew. 

It  was  on  Christmas  night  that  it  was  to  be  carried 
out.  The  Sunday  night  before  Dick  came  home,  white 
with  weariness  and  despondency.  He  had  had  a  day 
too  hard  for  him,  that  he  knew;  one  which  his  phys 
ician  would  have  called  dangerous.  But  how  could  it 
be  helped?  At  daybreak  a  doctor  at  the  camp  had  tele 
phoned  that  Peter  Tompkins  couldn't  live,  that  he  had 
asked  for  the  "  minister."  Would  he  go  down?  "  Be 
there  in  an  hour,"  Dick  had  answered  —  and  he^was. 
The  poor  lad  was  almost  gone.  Dick  sat  with  him  to 
the  end,  took  his  last  message  —  winced,  wondered, 
and  bowed  his  head  at  the  sheer,  cheerful  bravery  with 
which  the  boy  took  what  he  called  faintly  his  "  medi 
cine."  "  Didn't  take  care  like  they  told  me,"  he  said. 
"  Tell  Mother  they've  done  the  best  they  could."  But 
Dick  knew  that  while  the  loyal  fellow  might  take  upon 
himself  the  cause  of  his  own  death,  blundering  orders 
and  unthinking  friends  were  responsible.  The  boys 
had  been  told  to  bring  as  little  as  possible  to  camp  — 
only  a  suit  case  which  could  be  sent  back  with  the  clothes 
they  wore.  Peter,  like  hundreds  of  others  in  that  cruel 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          219 

month  of  December  had  started  from  his  home  in  his 
oldest,  thinnest  clothes,  without  an  overcoat.  He  was 
going  to  throw  everything  away,  he  said,  and  not 
trouble  to  send  anything  back;  and  there  had  been  no 
body  in  the  town  with  sufficient  forethought  and  author 
ity  to  prevent  the  risk  he  took.  He  had  reached  camp 
chilled  to  the  bone.  The  supply  of  clothing  was  short. 
He  had  to  go  about  for  days  in  his  thin,  old  garments. 
He  could  not  get  warm,  exercise  as  he  would,  hug  the 
fire  as  he  would. 

In  the  tremendous  pressure  of  preparation  and  or 
ganization,  it  was  impossible  that  the  physical  condition 
of  each  boy  should  be  known  to  his  officers.  Peter  had 
to  shift  for  himself  in  those  first  days.  He  was  shy 
and  homesick.  It  was  Dick,  who  was  making  a  spe 
cialty  of  the  homesick,  who  had  discovered  how  serious 
his  condition  was  and  who  had  seen  to  it  that  he  was 
sent  to  the  hospital;  and  it  was  Dick  who  had  given 
him  the  care  which  the  one  doctor  and  one  nurse  in  a 
ward  where  there  were  two  hundred  very  sick  boys 
could  not  possibly  give. 

It  was  too  late.  Peter  was  dead,  and,  two  hours 
before,  Dick  had  seen  his  rough  pine  coffin  on  the  plat 
form,  ready  for  the  journey  home.  A  clumsy  wreath 
had  been  laid  upon  it  by  some  sorrowing  "  buddy,"  at 
its  foot  stood  a  cheap  suitcase,  containing  all  the  boy's 
few  belongings.  At  the  head  a  soldier  kept  guard. 
Dick's  heart  ached  for  the  mother  who  must  receive  the 
pitiful  box.  And  he  groaned  as  he  thought  of  the 
many,  very  many,  he  feared,  that  would  follow  it. 

Sabinsport's  temper  at  the  moment  weighed  even 
more  heavily  upon  Dick  that  night  than  the  sickness  at 
the  camp.  The  inevitable  scandal,  that  both  he  and 
the  General  had  feared,  had  come  the  night  before. 
Twenty  boys,  off  for  their  Saturday  holiday,  had  slipped 
into  Sabinsport  for  what  they  called  a  "  blow  out." 


220          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

They  had  gone  to  Beefsteak  John's,  one  of  the  cheap 
workmen's  hotels,  had  taken  rooms,  laid  off  their  uni 
forms,  put  on  pajamas  and  called  up  the  barkeeper. 
Of  course  he  could  give  them  what  they  wanted,  for 
they  were  not  in  uniform !  And  he  had  done  it. 

The  scandal  had  been  made  worse  by  the  introduc 
tion  of  a  half  dozen  of  the  strange  women  who  had 
taken  up  their  dwelling  in  Sabinsport.  Before  morning 
the  crowd  was  on  the  streets,  rioting  madly.  The 
boys  had  been  arrested  and  were  in  jail.  The  whole 
story  was  in  the  City's  Sunday  morning  paper.  Sab 
insport  was  disgraced  before  the  world. 

The  General  and  Dick  had  talked  the  matter  over  in 
the  hour  after  he  had  closed  poor  Peter's  eyes,  and  both 
had  agreed  that  this  probably  put  an  end  to  their  Christ 
mas  celebration.  "  You  can  see,"  the  General  had 
said,  "  how  impossible  it  will  be  for  me  to  do  my  part 
unless  I  know  that  every  saloon  in  Sabinsport  is  abso 
lutely  closed.  That's  my  ultimatum.  They  tell  me 
that  there's  a  man  by  the  name  of  Mulligan  that  con 
trols  the  town.  Could  you  get  at  him?" 

"  I  could,"  said  Dick,  "  but  I  don't  know  whether  it 
would  do  any  good.  Mulligan  is  obstinate.  I  am 
sure  I  could  have  persuaded  him  long  ago  to  close  every 
house  he  owns  in  Sabinsport  and  willingly  have  stood 
his  losses  if  it  had  not  been  for  Mrs.  Katcham.  So 
long  as  she  continues  in  the  field,  he  will  keep  everything 
open  to  spite  her." 

"  I  don't  wonder,"  said  the  General,  sympathetically. 
"  Same  here.  She's  been  trying  to  force  me  to  appoint 
a  mother  for  every  fifty  boys.  Let  'em  live  in  the 
camp.  Thinks  I'm  in  league  with  the  liquor  interests 
because  I  refuse  —  told  me  so  to  my  face.  You  can't 
do  anything  with  such  women.  But  you  must  stop  the 
liquor  selling  there  some  way  unless  you  want  me  to 
appeal  to  Washington." 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          221 

Dick  had  come  back  to  town  anxious  and  disheart 
ened.  "  It's  a  nice  situation,  and  Christmas  only  two 
days  away."  He  was  sitting  perplexed  and  weary  be 
fore  his  fire,  when  who  should  come  in  but  Mulligan 
himself. 

"  Can  you  give  me  a  few  minutes,  Reverend?"  he 
called,  in  his  hearty  voice. 

Dick  stared  in  amazement.  "  Of  course,"  he  said. 
"  Come  in."  He  helped  him  with  his  coat,  stirred  the 
fire,  offered  him  a  cigar,  and  sat  down. 

"  See  here,  Dick,"  Mulligan  began.  "  I  wouldn't 
come  telling  anybody  in  this  town  I'm  ashamed  of  my 
self  but  you  —  I  am.  That  thing  last  night  was  my 
fault.  If  I'd  ever  given  the  boys  round  town  a  hint 
that  they  weren't  to  sell  booze  to  soldiers,  they'd  never 
done  it,  uniform  or  no  uniform;  but  I  never  batted  an 
eye  at  'em.  I've  known  all  along  they  got  stuff  when 
ever  they  wanted  it.  I  never  tipped  the  police  not  to 
see  things,  but  I  never  tipped  'em  to  see  'em,  and  that's 
what  they  was  waitin'  for.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  that 
Katcham  woman,  I'd  'a'  done  it.  I'm  that  mean  I 
couldn't  stand  it  to  see  her  get  her  way.  Now,  she's 
gettin'  up  a  mass  meetin'  for  Christmas  —  think  of  that, 
a  mass  meetin'  on  Christmas.  Well,  I'm  goin'  to  beat 
her  to  it. 

"  I  control  ten  saloons  in  this  town  —  all  except 
the  pikers  —  I'm  closing  every  blamed  one  of  them 
to-day  —  canceled  the  leases.  I'll  turn  out  every  dog 
gone  man  that  don't  shut  down.  And  I'm  warnin'  the 
little  fellows  that  they've  got  to  follow  suit.  They're 
howling,  but  let  'em.  I  have  told  them  I'd  treat  them 
square,  pay  them  for  six  months.  They  know  me. 
Let  them  sue  if  they  want  to.  They  know  that  I  can 
prove  that  they've  been  selling  to  the  boys.  There's 
not  a  jury  in  the  State  that  would  give  them  damages. 
The  bar  at  Beefsteak  Jim's  is  closed  now.  I'm  going 


222          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

to  make  this  town  clean,  so  clean  that  the  boys  can 
play  dominoes  without  being  laughed  at. 

"  And  I've  seen  the  Chief.  I've  told  him  if  his  men 
so  much  as  wink  at  a  glass  of  beer  sold  to  a  soldier, 
I'll  fire  him.  I've  told  him  he's  to  run  out  any  shady 
woman  that  shows  her  bleached  head  in  this  burg,  and 
put  the  camp  onto  any  boy  that  tries  to  sneak  into  any 
mischief.  I'm  goin'  to  make  this  town  clean,  Dick,  so 
clean  all  these  doggone  camp  towns  around  the  country 
that  are  rolling  up  their  eyes  at  Sabinsport's  wicked 
ness  and  calling  attention  to  how  good  they  are  and  re 
joicing  that  we've  got  it  in  the  neck,  will  sing  another 
song.  I'll  show  them.  And  what  tickles  me  most  is 
getting  ahead  of  the  Katcham  woman.  She's  not  go 
ing  to  spoil  our  Christmas  by  her  mass  meetin'.  When 
the  town  gets  up  to-morrow  morning,  they  will  find 
that  things  are  shut  down.  I  have  seen  to  it  that  it 
gets  out.  Everybody  will  know  without  waiting  for 
the  Argus,  and  you  ought  to  see  what's  going  in  the 
Argus  to-morrow  night.  I'm  letting  it  be  known  that 
the  landlords  in  this  town  made  a  voluntary  agreement 
—  note  that,  Reverend,  voluntary  agreement,  for  the 
good  of  the  army  and  the  good  of  Sabinsport,  not  to 
sell  another  glass  of  beer  as  long  as  this  war  lasts. 
Don't  that  sound  noble?  Won't  that  shut  up  those 
neighborhoods  in  the  State  that  are  taking  pains  to  say 
how  depraved  this  burg  is? 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  tell  anybody  I  had  a  hand  in 
this,  Reverend.  Just  tellin'  you  because  I  care  about 
what  you  think,  and  because  I  want  you  to  know  the 
straight  goods.  It's  goin'  to  be  done,  and  so  you  can 
stop  worryin'.  That's  got  me  more  than  once  —  see 
you  lookin'  so  anxious.  And  then  there's  Jack.  I  hate 
to  have  him  know  over  there  in  France  what  happened 
Saturday  night.  I'm  sending  him  the  paper  and  along 
with  it  a  copy  of  the  agreement.  That's  all.  I'm  not 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          223 

going  to  have  his  town  disgraced  again.  So  long,  Rev 
erend,  and  get  some  sleep.  You  need  it.-' 

There  were  tears  in  Dick's  eyes  as  he  wrung  Mulli 
gan's  hand.  "  You  better  believe  I'll  sleep,"  he  said. 
"  Now,  we'll  have  our  festival,  and  I'm  counting  on 
your  being  there.  The  General  and  his  staff  are  com 
ing,  and  we'll  have  a  surprise  which  couldn't  have  been 
sprung  if  it  hadn't  been  for  what  you've  done.  You've 
saved  Sabinsport  more  than  once,  Mulligan,  but  you 
never  did  it  so  good  a  turn  as  to-day." 

"  Nothing  in  that,  Reverend.  Thank  the  Katcham 
woman.  I  had  to  beat  her  to  it." 

Dick  went  back  to  his  pipe.  He  was  too  happy  to 
sleep.  He  remembered  a  remark  of  Katie's,  made 
months  ago,  and  he  repeated  it  aloud,  "  The  Lord  sure 
is  a  wonder!  " 

For  several  years  now  Sabinsport  had  had  a  Christ 
mas  tree  on  the  square  at  five  p.  M.  of  Christmas  eve, 
with  carols  and  prayers  and  the  free  distribution  to  all 
the  children  of  large  and  enticing  stockings  filled  with 
candies.  At  six,  almost  every  house  in  town  had 
lighted  candles  in  its  windows.  This  year  they  were  to 
have  their  Christmas  tree  as  usual,  but,  in  deference  to 
Mr.  Hoover,  the  candies  and  candles  were  to  be  saved. 
At  nine  o'clock  on  Christmas  night,  there  was  to  be  a 
community  celebration,  the  details  of  which  nobody 
seemed  to  know,  but  the  program  had  been  hinted  at  in 
every  quarter  of  the  town  in  such  a  mysterious  way  that 
the  anticipation  was  high. 

Dick  and  Nancy  had  been  responsible  for  drawing 
everybody  in.  The  mines  and  mills,  as  well  as  High 
Town,  had  representatives.  Every  quarter  knew  that 
somebody  from  its  ranks  was  to  do  something,  though 
what  that  something  was  was  an  entire  secret. 

Sabinsport  had  a  wonderful  place  for  a  great  com- 


224         THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

munity  celebration  —  the  Opera  House.  When  Mul 
ligan  and  Cowder  planned  the  Opera  House  they  had 
been  in  their  most  optimistic  mood.  They  wanted  it 
big  —  big  enough  for  conventions  and  expositions  — 
u  a  stage  on  which  you  could  have  a  circus,"  was  Jake's 
idea.  The  result  was  a  great,  gaudy  barn  with  a  stage 
which  would  have  done  for  a  hippodrome.  Finan 
cially,  the  size  of  the  thing  had  defeated  its  purpose, 
but  for  a  great  town  celebration  it  was  magnificent.  It 
was  none  too  big  for  the  affair  in  which  Dick  was  inter 
ested. 

By  seven  o'clock  of  Christmas  night,  the  Opera 
House  was  packed.  At  seven-thirty  the  program  be 
gan  —  songs  and  tableaux  and  speeches  and  impersona 
tions.  It  went  without  a  hitch  —  swift,  compelling, 
and,  oh,  so  merry.  In  an  hour  after  it  began  the  house 
was  a  happy,  cheering  crowd,  helped  not  a  little  in  their 
joyfulness  by  the  presence  of  scores  upon  scores  of  sol 
diers,  guests  from  the  camp,  and  by  the  aid  which  the 
applause  was  getting  from  two  boxes  filled  with  officers, 
the  General  among  them. 

The  program  was  almost  finished  —  all  but  a  single 
number  which  appeared  simply  as  Music  and  Tableaux. 
If  the  audience  had  not  been  so  interested,  it  would 
have  noticed  that  up  to  this  point  there  had  been  but 
the  scantiest  of  reference  to  army  or  navy,  to  war  or 
country.  The  very  absence  of  these  topics  hushed 
them  to  silence  when  suddenly  the  orchestra  broke  into 
"  Over  There." 

It  was  like  a  call,  penetrating,  stirring.  It  hushed 
and  thrilled  them  beyond  applause.  The  hush  deep 
ened  when  suddenly,  across  the  long  drop  curtain  there 
flashed  the  words: — 

SOMEWHERE  IN  FRANCE 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          225 

The  orchestra  played  on,  every  brain  fitting  the 
words  to  the  notes : 

"  Over  there,  over  there, 
Send  the  word  over  there, 

That  the  Yanks  are  coming,  the  Yanks  are  coming, 
The  drums  rum-tumming  ev'rywhere. 
So  prepare,  say  a  pray'r, 
Send  the  word,  send  the  word  to  beware, 
We'll  be  over,  we're  coming  over, 
And  we  won't  come  back  till  it's  over,  over  there." 

Slowly  the  curtain  rose  on  a  scene  that  much  looking 
in  the  last  few  months  at  photographs  and  picture  pa 
pers  had  made  familiar  to  them  —  a  French  town,  the 
kind  they  knew  the  boys  were  billeted  in,  with  its  long 
row  of  gray-faced  houses,  its  red-tiled  roofs,  its  quaint 
church  with  its  simple,  very  simple  statue  of  Joan  of 
Arc;  and  behind,  rising  perpetually,  mountains,  along 
which  ran  a  highway,  climbing  up  and  up.  A  company 
of  boys  in  khaki  swarmed  over  the  place.  They  were 
resting  on  their  arms,  waiting  orders.  They  hung  out 
of  the  windows,  sat  in  the  doorways,  grouped  carelessly 
in  the  roadway,  swarmed  over  the  pedestal  up  to  the 
very  feet  of  the  figure  of  Joan. 

The  house  watched  the  scene  with  swelling  heart. 
Then  from  an  upper  window,  there  suddenly  came  a 
clear  baritone.  A  boy,  leaning  out,  his  eyes  on  the  lit 
tle  statue,  began  to  sing  a  song  new  to  Sabinsport. 
Alone  he  sang  through  the  first  verse,  then  the  wonder 
ful  refrain  was  taken  up, 

"  Joan  of  Arc,  Joan  of  Arc, 
Do  your  eyes 
From  the  skies 
See  the  foe? 
Don't  you  see  the  drooping  fleur-de-lis? 


226          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

Can't  you  hear  the  tears  of  Normandy? 

Joan  of  Arc,  Joan  of  Arc, 
Let  your  spirit  guide  us  through, 
Come,  lead  your  France  to  victory. 
Joan  of  Arc,  they  are  calling  you,  calling  you." 

It  was  but  the  beginning.  It  had  put  the  waiting 
boys  in  the  mood  for  song,  and  the  appealing  refrain 
had  scarcely  died  away  when  the  tension  was  broken 
by  a  merry  voice  starting,  "  Where  do  we  go  from 
here,  Boys?  Where  do  we  go  from  here?"  From 

fay  they  swung  to  grave,  and  then  back  to  gay.  *  The 
tar  Spangled  Banner  "  brought  everybody  to  their 
feet.  "  I  don't  want  to  get  well,  I  don't  want  to  get 
well,"  set  everybody  to  laughing.  Then  came  "  Christ 
mas  Night"  and  then — "  Home,  Sweet  Home."  It 
was  almost  too  much  for  the  singers  themselves,  for 
more  than  one  lad  on  the  stage  dropped  his  head,  un 
able  to  go  on.  As  the  song  rose,  so  sweet,  and  famil 
iar,  so  ladened  with  memories,  the  audience  sat  with 
Quivering  faces  and  eyes  grown  wet.  If  it  had  not  been 
or  the  emotion  which  had  seized  it,  it  would  have  been 
sooner  conscious  that  there  was  an  unusual  accompani 
ment  to  the  words,  a  rhythmical  beating,  which  grew 
louder  and  louder  until  it  became  a  steady  tramp.  It 
had  grown  so  near  that  it  would  have  broken  the  spell 
which  held  the  house,  if  suddenly  a  bugle  had  not  sent 
every  man  on  the  stage  to  his  feet. 

They  fell  in  line,  and  just  as  the  outside  tramp  came 
too  distinct  to  be  mistaken,  an  order,  "  Forward, 
March,"  came  quick  and  sharp.  They  filed  out  and 
behind  them  came  others,  an  interminable  stream, 
across  the  stage,  only  to  reappear,  mounting  upward 
along  the  road  in  the  background.  And  as  they  started 
upward,  at  the  right  and  top  of  the  height,  a  great  lum 
inous  American  flag  was  suddenly  flung  out.  It  waved 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          227 

and  waved  as  if  in  salute  to  the  mounting  men.  They 
went  up,  up.  Their  young  faces,  turned,  to  their  ban 
ner,  wore  looks  of  such  resolve,  such  exultation,  that 
the  hearts  of  the  men  and  women  watching,  breathless 
below,  swelled  with  pride  and  hope. 

The  host  came  on,  wave  after  wave;  the  orchestra 
played  on  the  wrought  up  audience  as  on  a  viol.  They 
broke  into  cheers,  dropped  into  silence,  sobbed,  then 
cheered  and  cheered  and  cheered;  and  when  the  light 
gradually  faded,  the  curtain  slowly  dropped,  the  music 
little  by  little  subsided;  they  sat  unstrung,  listening  to 
the  tramping  grow  dimmer  and  dimmer  until  it  was  lost 
in  the  sounds  of  the  town. 

It  was  a  new  Sabinsport  that  went  home  that  night. 
Whatever  might  happen,  never  again  would  she  doubt, 
or  close  her  heart  to  the  soldier.  She  was  his.  The 
General,  waiting  in  his  box  for  Dick,  said  as  he  grasped 
his  hand,  "  That's  settled,  Ingraham.  We'll  have  no 
more  trouble  with  this  town." 

But  if  Sabinsport  had  been  chastened  and  her  heart 
opened,  she  still  had  to  grope  her  way  into  the  organ 
ized  service  that  alone  could  restore  her  hurt  pride  and 
give  her  some  realizing  sense  of  being  a  part  of  the 
great  undertaking;  and  it  was  a  hard  moment  for  that. 

In  all  the  war  there  was  not  a  month  more  difficult 
than  January  of  1918.  The  camp  and  the  town  were 
in  the  clutch  of  the  most  cruel  weather  that  part  of  the 
world  had  ever  seen.  Again  and  again  in  these  weeks, 
the  miles  of  switches  and  sidings  in  the  valley  were 
blocked  with  long  trains  of  cars  filled  with  coal,  with 
every  conceivable  kind  of  freight  for  the  camp,  as  well 
as  with  materials  needed  for  the  shipyards  and  over 
seas.  Although  every  effort  was  made  to  keep  tracks 
clear  for  troop  trains,  every  now  and  then,  one  filled 
with  tired  and  shivering  men  would  be  held  up.  They 
sang  —  oh,  yes,  they  always  sang;  but  you  could  not  go 


228          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

among  them  and  not  know  that  the  singing  often  hid 
frightened  and  homesick  hearts. 

The  town  itself,  surrounded  as  she  was  by  mines  un 
derlaid  with  coal,  was  suffering.  Sabinsport  was  start 
led  to  find  some  of  'her  own  families  in  actual  danger 
of  death  by  freezing.  In  a  town  which  all  its  life  had 
been  accustomed  to  wait  until  the  last  minute  and  then 
call  up  and  ask  that  a  load  of  coal  be  delivered  at  once, 
and  to  get  it  as  it  would  get  its  roast  from  the  butcher's, 
it  was  natural  that  many  prosperous  families  were  low 
in  fuel  supplies. 

It  was  hard  for  the  man  of  influence  then  not  to 
throw  aside  all  sense  of  responsibility  for  anybody  but 
his  family.  Queer  stories  of  the  tricks  that  men  played 
in  order  to  get  coal,  headed  for  their  neighbors,  were 
told.  And  as  for  the  poor,  they  waited  in  long  lines, 
with  pails  and  scuttles,  to  get  their  little  lot,  and  many  a 
time  went  home  without  it. 

Unreasonably  enough,  storm  and  snow  classed  them 
selves  in  Sabinsport's  mind  as  part  of  the  war,  and  her 
uneasiness  grew.  Was  it  all  to  be  like  this  —  failure, 
sorrow,  shame,  suffering?  Was  she  never  to  see  any 
thing  orderly,  sufficient,  successful?  Was  there  noth 
ing  in  war  that  was  brave,  glorious  and  stirring?  Sab 
insport  was  seeing  only  the  fringe  of  the  great  under 
taking,  and  it  looked  ragged  enough  in  the  early  part 
of  1918. 

In  all  this,  Dick  was  going  from  depth  to  depth  of 
discouragement.  Inveterate  believer  that  he  was  in 
this  town,  which  he  had  come  so  to  love,  in  the  country 
in  whose  institutions  he  so  believed,  doubt  and  despair 
of  the  outcome  of  the  great  undertaking  grew  upon 
him.  We  were  not  going  to  be  able  to  handle  even 
the  physical  side  of  it.  It  was  not  alone  what  he  saw 
at  home;  it  was  what  he  heard  from  his  friends  in 
Washington.  Their  letters,  once  hopeful,  became  de- 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          229 

spairing.  "  It  looks  to  me  to-day,"  one  of  them  wrote 
him  along  in  the  middle  of  January,  "  as  if  the  whole 
war  machine  had  broken  down.  I  have  believed  and 
believed,  but  the  fact  is  we  are  not  getting  men  over. 
It's  all  nonsense  about  our  having  400,000  on  the  other 
side;  there  are  not  over  100,000.  It's  all  nonsense 
about  our  building  ships  —  the  whole  business  is  simply 
tangled  up.  It's  an  awful,  humiliating  failure,  I  am 
afraid,  Dick.  The  men  at  the  top  are  camouflaging 
the  whole  situation.  I  cannot  endure  it  that  we  men 
back  here  should  fail  the  fine  fellows  who  gave  them 
selves  so  utterly,  so  fearlessly." 

This  letter  was  the  last  straw  to  Dick's  despair.  He 
was  overwhelmed  with  the  futility  of  all  the  gigantic 
effort,  sickened  by  the  inability  of  Sabinsport  properly 
to  even  take  care  of  its  own  in  a  stress  of  weather,  sick 
ened  by  what  he  saw  in  the  camp.  Sabinsport  was 
failing,  the  camp  was  failing,  the  country  was  failing. 
And  why  should  he  expect  anything  else?  What  was 
the  human  race,  after  all,  but  a  set  of  selfish,  limited 
bunglers  ? 

And  so,  night  after  night,  he  tossed  and  groaned,  and 
slept  fitfully.  Things  grinned  at  him.  He  wakened 
feverish  and  worn.  In  the  day  things  said,  "  What's 
the  use?  Why  talk  about  democracy?  Why  talk 
about  ideals?  "  And  he?  Why,  he  was  an  utter  fail 
ure.  To  get  into  it,  to  have  a  turn  in  the  trenches,  to  be 
soaked  with  filth,  to  be  broken  with  fatigue,  to  struggle 
to  his  feet,  to  feel  a  blessed  death  wound  —  that,  that 
was  the  only  thing  that  would  count. 

He  worked,  of  course;  wore  every  day  his  mask  of 
courage  and  good  cheer;  but  day  by  day  it  was  growing 
harder  to  keep  it  on.  Day  by  day  his  strength  was 
failing,  for  Dick,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  was  reck 
lessly  disobeying  the  boundaries  which  had  been  set  for 
his  physical  existence.  The  over-fatigue  which  he  had 


230          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

always  conscientiously  avoided  he  not  only  sought  but 
coveted;  the  strains  which  he  had  been  told  might  at 
any  time  be  fatal  to  him,  he  took  almost  gladly.  Fi 
nally  his  friends  among  the  physicians  at  the  camp 
warned  him,  "  You  will  break  down,  Ingraham,  as  sure 
as  the  world  if  you  don't  take  things  easier."  His 
friends  grew  worried.  Nancy  came  to  him  and  begged 
him  to  stop,  to  go  away  for  a  while;  but  he  laughed  at 
them  all.  In  the  bitterness  of  his  soul  he  had  come  to 
feel  that  here  was  his  way  out;  he  could  give  himself 
here. 

The  break  came  suddenly  in  the  hospital  at  the  camp; 
one  day  he  collapsed  utterly  and  was  taken  home  uncon 
scious.  An  almost  superhuman  effort  of  doctors  and 
nurses  brought  him  around,  and  a  month  later,  very 
white  and  humble,  he  was  taken  from  Sabinsport  to  the 
South  by  Reuben  Cowder  himself. 

His  desire  to  die  had  left  him.  He  was  his  normal 
self,  save  for  his  physical  weakness.  He  meant  to  get 
well  and  come  back  to  Sabinsport  —  Sabinsport,  whose 
grief  and  anxiety  over  his  illness  had  touched  him  to  the 
heart?  And  he  did  his  part.  Three  months  later  he 
came  back  —  a  little  thinner,  a  little  quieter,  but  quite 
himself  again  and  capable  of  steady  effort. 


CHAPTER  X 

DICK'S  impression,  as  he  made  his  first  rounds  of 
Sabinsport  after  his  return,  was,  Why,  here  is  a 
new  town!  What  had  come  over  her?  He 
had  never  pictured  any  such  realization  of  the  war  as 
he  sensed  at  every  turn.  It  seemed  to  him  that  it  was 
the  one  occupation,  the  one  interest  of  everybody;  and 
it  was  an  orderly,  systematized  interest.  The  town 
seemed  not  only  to  have  mobilized,  but  to  have  trained 
herself.  She  was  doing  her  work  with  a  vim  and  a 
freshness  that  he  had  not  thought  possible.  The 
women,  for  instance,  the  women  who  had  held  off,  said 
the  City  is  taking  care  of  the  camp;  who,  as  a  whole, 
had  never  gone  beyond  the  knitting  stage,  had  been 
marshaled  into  organized  groups  and  were  working 
with  the  steadiness  of  so  many  factory  hands.  Since 
his  departure  a  Red  Cross  house  had  gone  up,  and 
there,  from  eight  to  five  every  day,  regular  detachments 
served  under  a  direction  which  he  found  was  almost 
military  in  its  severity.  And  it  was  a  democratic 
house.  Thursday  afternoon  was  the  afternoon  "  out  " 
of  cooks  and  maids  in  Sabinsport,  and  many  a  one  gave 
her  three  or  four  hours  at  the  tables  on  an  equal  foot 
ing  with  the  greatest  ladies  of  High  Town. 

Nancy's  canteen,  which  had  met  so  poor  a  response 
when  suggested,  could  be  counted  on  now,  night  or  day. 
It  was  no  unusual  thing  for  2000  tired  boys  to  be  served 
at  four  A.  M.  with  coffee  and  food  at  the  headquarters 
by  the  track. 

It  was  amazing  the  women  that  could  be  called  on 
for  this  severe  duty.  There  was  a  little  manicurist  at 
the  Paradise  —  a  saucy,  competent,  flirtatious  person, 
that  went  into  the  canteen  organization  for  night  work. 

231 


232         THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

Three  nights  a  week,  from  nine  at  night  until  six  in 
the  morning,  she  was  ready  for  call,  and  again  and 
again  she  would  serve  her  full  time,  and,  after  two 
hours'  sleep,  go  back  to  her  table,  a  little  pale  perhaps, 
but  never  any  less  skillful,  any  less  flirtatious.  And 
there  were  the  greatest  ladies  of  High  Town  that  en 
listed  like  the  little  manicurist  for  night  work  and  did 
it  as  faithfully. 

Dick  found  that  not  only  the  women  were  working 
but  that  the  war  spirit  among  them  was  hot,  even  fierce. 
He  dropped  in  one  afternoon  to  the  Woman's  Club  to 
hear  the  story  that  an  Eastern  journalist,  lately  re 
turned  from  a  trip  along  the  front,  had  to  tell.  As  he 
watched  the  audience,  a  large  proportion  of  whom  were 
knitting — for  Sabinsport's  Woman's  Club  had  come 
to  the  point  where  it  was  stipulated,  when  bringing  on 
a  lecturer,  that  he  should  not  object  to  knitting  —  he 
recalled  the  discussion  he  had  had  a  couple  of  years  be 
fore  with  Ralph. 

Ralph  had  insisted  loudly  that  it  was  nonsense  to  talk 
in  America  about  war,  that  the  women  would  not  stand 
for  it,  that  they  would  riot  first.  Dick  had  answered, 
"  Ralph,  that  is  something  you  read  in  a  book.  If  you 
knew  women  and  knew  history,  you  would  know  that 
when  the  test  comes,  they  not  only  will  '  stand  for  '  war, 
but  they  will  be  violent  supporters  of  war."  Ralph 
had  accused  him  of  being  out  of  touch  with  the  modern 
world,  of  not  knowing  anything  of  the  "  New  Woman." 
This  conversation  ran  through  his  mind  now  as  the 
speaker  told  the  story  of  the  first  gas  attack  by  the  Ger 
mans,  of  the  deadly  effect  it  had  had  on  the  unprepared 
English,  and  then  remarked  that  the  English  now  had  a 
more  deadly  gas  invention  than  anything  that  had  come 
out  of  Germany.  He  was  almost  startled  by  the  ap 
plause  which  rang  through  the  room.  Practically 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          233 

every  woman  took  part  in  it;  the  knitters  dropping  their 
work  to  clap. 

The  speaker  went  on  with  stories  of  how  our  troops 
made  their  first  attack.  "  Nineteen  dead  Germans," 
he  said,  "  to  six  dead  Americans."  Again  the  room 
rang  with  long  clapping  and  cries  of,  "  Good  boys ! 
Good  boys !  "  Not  a  tear,  not  a  bowed  head ;  but  pride 
—  fierce  pride,  and  vengeance. 

"  I  was  right,"  thought  Dick.  "  Ralph  read  it  in 
a  book,  not  out  of  life." 

Again  and  again  Dick  noted  profound  changes  in 
individuals  in  the  three  months  in  which  he  had  been 
gone.  None  of  them  moved  him  so  deeply  or  gave  him 
so  much  joy  as  that  in  Mary  Sabins,  who  was  now 
regularly  installed  as  a  nurse's  aide  in  the  hospital  at 
camp.  Her  face  wore  the  look  of  one  who  had  strug 
gled  to  a  high  mountain  and  from  the  top  was  looking 
into  a  new  and  glorious  world. 

Mary  had  been  a  very  unhappy  woman  in  the  months 
since  Young  Tom  had  left  her  for  France.  It  was  not 
only  the  shock  of  his  going,  but  it  was  the  still  greater 
shock  that  her  husband  had  refused  to  use  his  authority 
at  her  request  and  forbid  the  boy's  going  away.  For 
the  first  time  in  their  married  life  of  some  twenty-five 
years,  a  strain  had  come  between  them.  Tom  Sabins 
could  not  understand  why  Mary  did  not  feel  his  pride  in 
the  boy's  courageous  and  adventurous  spirit.  She 
should  not  understand  why  he  did  not  resent  the  inva 
sion  of  their  snug  and  comfortable  world. 

When  the  war  came  she  was  still  further  bewildered 
by  the  change  that  came  over  Tom.  Every  business 
and  social  occupation  that  had  engrossed  him,  the  pleas 
ures  to  which  he  had  been  so  devoted,  he  threw  them 
aside  as  completely  as  the  boy  had  thrown  over  college 
and  home.  It  was  Tom  Sabins  that  had  been  asked  to 


234          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

head  the  draft  board  of  the  community,  and  Mary  had 
never  seen  him  so  engrossed  or  so  interested  in  any 
thing.  '  Why,  why  should  he  give  his  days  to  men 
of  whom  she  had  never  heard?  Why  should  he  be  so 
eager,  so  enthusiastic,  so  indefatigable,  in  this  work?  " 
Mary  watched  him  with  resentful  eyes. 

Dick  had  talked  frequently  with  Nancy  about  their 
friend,  and  the  two  had  tried  their  best  to  interest  her 
in  some  form  of  camp  work;  but  she  had  refused 
peremptorily  to  be  enlisted.  And  here  she  was  now, 
going  regularly  day  by  day  to  the  hospitals. 

'  Tell  me  about  Mary  Sabins,"  he  asked  Nancy,  the 
first  Monday  afternoon  after  his  return  that  he  was 
able  to  go  to  the  farm. 

"  You  know,  of  course,"  Nancy  said,  "  that  just  after 
you  left  Young  Tom  was  invalided  home.  He  went 
into  the  Foreign  Legion  when  our  forces  took  over  the 
ambulance  service,  and  got  a  nasty  wound  in  the  cheek 
and  shoulder  almost  at  once.  It  was  nothing  danger 
ous,  however,  but  it  was  very  hard  for  Tom  to  make 
Mary  believe  this,  and  she  raved  at  her  inability  to 
go  to  him.  He  got  on  famously  and  soon  was  allowed 
to  come  back.  You  never  saw  any  one  so  exultant  as 
Mary  was  when  Tom  first  came.  It  seemed  to  her,  I 
think,  that  her  old  world,  at  least  part  of  it,  was  re 
stored;  but  it  was  pitiful  to  see  how  soon  she  discov 
ered  that  Young  Tom's  notions  of  life  were  utterly 
changed,  that  the  interests  which  had  absorbed  them  in 
the  old  days  had  no  meaning  now;  that  his  one  thought 
was  of  the  war,  and  his  one  hope  was  to  return  to  it. 

"  I  saw  her  get  two  or  three  staggering  blows,  ut 
terly  unconscious,  of  course,  on  the  boy's  part.  One 
night  I  was  there,  and  he  was  talking  about  American 
girls,  the  nurses  and  canteen  workers.  '  Why,'  he  said, 
*  I  didn't  know  women  could  be  so  wonderful.  You 
haven't  any  idea  of  it  until  you  see  them  working  over 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          235 

there.  They  are  not  afraid  of  anything.  You  cannot 
tire  them  out.  Maybe  they  will  drop,  but  they  won't 
give  in.  Afraid?  Why,  the  Germans  bombed  the 
front  line  hospital  I  was  in,  just  after  I  got  mine,  and 
those  girls  never  turned  a  hair,  never  looked  up,  never 
hustled,  just  went  about  laughing  and  cheering  us  up. 
They  killed  two  of  them  —  the  murderers  1  And  there 
wasn't  a  woman  there  that  did  not  stick.  It's  great. 
It's  great  to  know  that  women  can  be  like  that.' 

"  You  should  have  seen  Mary's  face.  It  was  tragic, 
and  Tom  was  so  unconscious.  Then,  her  second  blow 
came  when  she  knew  that  he  was  going  back.  You  see, 
she  hadn't  an  idea  but  what  this  would  mean  that  that 
was  the  end  of  it.  I  think  she  had  some  notion  that  he 
would  not  want  to  go  back;  that  getting  hurt  would  kill 
this  strange,  unfamiliar  thing  that  possessed  him. 
Mary  is  like  so  many  of  us  American  women.  Cer 
tainly  I  used  to  be  so  —  afraid  somebody  will  get  hurt 
—  afraid  of  suffering.  Why,  I  cannot  see  that  you 
can  know  much  about  life  unless  you  suffer,  and  see 
suffering.  Mary  could  not  understand  it.  When 
Young  Tom  really  was  all  right,  which  was  very 
soon,  he  went  out  and  enlisted  —  enlisted  in  the  Ma 
rines. 

"  Mary  went  all  to  pieces.  Of  course  Tom  stood  by 
the  boy.  A  week  after  he  was  gone,  she  came  out  here 
one  afternoon.  '  Nancy  Cowder,'  she  said,  '  do  you 
think  I  could  be  used  at  the  camp?  ' 

*  Oh,  Mary,'  I  told  her,  '  if  you  only  would  go 
to  the  camp,  we  need  you  so.'  She  looked  at  me  in 
such  a  curious  way. — 'Need  me?  What  for?' 
1  The  boys  need  you,'  I  said.  '  We  cannot  do  for 
them  the  hundredth  part  of  what  we  ought.  Boys 
like  Young  Tom  need  you.  You  should  be  doing  here, 
Mary,'  I  said,  *  just  what  other  American  women  will 
be  doing  for  Young  Tom.' 


236          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

"  '  I  think  I  must  try,'  she  said.  '  I  have  discovered 
I  have  lost  my  husband  and  I  have  lost  my  son.  I 
don't  understand  what  they  are  talking  about.  I  don't 
understand  what  they  feel.  They  have  no  interest  in 
me  and  no  interest  in  what  I  do.  I  don't  know  that  I 
can  ever  get  them  back.  But  I  must  have  something 
to  do.' 

"  Well,  I  sent  her  into  the  city  for  a  course  as  a 
nurse's  orderly.  She  made  a  great  discovery  there. 
And,  oh,  the  things  she  has  learned  since  she  has  been 
working  in  camp.  You  can  see  from  her  face  that  it's  a 
new  Mary.  And  Tom  —  Tom  is  the  happiest  man  in 
the  world,  though  Mary,  I  think,  doesn't  know  it,  yet. 
The  clouds  have  not  all  cleared  off  her  mountain  top, 
but  she  is  there.  War  is  a  dreadful  thing,  a  hideous, 
wicked  thing,  but  there  are  some  of  us  that  have  dis 
covered  the  greatness  of  life  through  it." 

A  new  attitude  toward  the  conduct  of  the  War  had 
come  in  Sabinsport,  too,  Dick  remarked.  When  he 
had  left,  the  town  had  been  alive  with  disheartening  ru 
mors  of  failure,  graft,  inefficiency.  The  meetings  of 
the  War  Board  were  given  over  to  them.  Captain 
Billy,  than  whom  nobody  in  all  of  Sabinsport  was  more 
desirous  that  the  country  should  make  a  record  for 
itself  in  the  war,  was  doing  his  utmost  to  prevent  that 
end  by  decrying  loudly  everything  that  was  attempted. 
Mr.  John  Commons  was  having  the  time  of  his  life. 
Never  had  he  been  able  to  reduce  so  many  people  for 
so  long  a  time  to  despairing  doubt  of  all  human  insti 
tutions  as  at  present.  He  could  scoff,  and  not  be  con 
tradicted,  at  the  absurdity  of  an  untrained,  democratic 
body  raising  a  great  army.  He  could  sneer,  without 
answer,  at  the  notion  of  the  United  States  —  soiled  as 
its  hands  were  with  stealing  from  the  Red  Man,  from 
lynching  the  negro,  from  gobbling  up  innocent  Panama 
—  setting  out  on  a  crusade  "  to  make  the  world  safe  for 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          237 

democracy."  Mr.  John  Commons  was  certainly  hav 
ing  a  wonderful  time,  when  Dick  went  away. 

But  all  this  had  changed.  To  his  amazement,  he 
found  that  criticism  of  the  Government,  any  doubt  of 
a  war  enterprise,  any  reluctance  to  accept  at  full  face 
value  any  request  of  the  Government,  was  met  in  Sab- 
insport  with  a  fierce  declaration  that  it  was  all  German 
propaganda. 

"  What  has  happened?  "  he  asked  Reuben  Cowder. 

'What  turned  the  town  in  this  direction?     When  I 

went  away,  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  was  to  get  a 

hearing  for  a  criticism,  sympathy  for  a  sneer.     What 

has  done  it?  " 

'  Well,"  said  Cowder,  "  Sabinsport  discovered  that 
it  was  being  '  worked/  You  know  I  have  always  sus 
pected  that  that  was  true.  You  remember  how  we 
talked,  back  in  1915  at  the  time  of  Labor's  National 
Peace  Council,  how  I  told  you  that  no  such  organiza 
tion  could  thrive  in  Sabinsport  when  there  was  plenty 
of  work  without  outside  feeding.  And  you  know  how 
for  a  year  or  so  after  that  went  to  pieces,  pro-German 
talk  was  not  very  popular.  After  we  went  into  the 
War  it  revived.  The  town  was  alive  with  distrust, 
and  I  was  sure,  just  as  I  was  about  Labor's  Peace 
Party,  that  there  was  somebody  feeding  it.  You  take 
the  negroes;  why,  they  almost  came  to  the  point  of 
revolt  here  against  the  war.  Nancy  had  a  cook  out  at 
the  farm  that  came  home  from  one  Sunday  afternoon 
meeting  to  tell  her  that  she  '  wan't  goin'  to  save  food 
any  more;  that  all  the  United  States  wanted  it  for  was 
to  make  slaves  of  the  negroes  again,  that  if  Germany 
came  over  here,  she  would  keep  them  free/  There 
was  a  regular  campaign  here  against  the  Liberty  Loan 
and  thrift  stamps.  And  when  the  women  took  their 
registration  for  service,  the  idea  was  spread  around 
among  all  the  more  ignorant  people  that  the  women 


238          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

were  being  registered  in  order  to  be  taken  to  France  to 
cook  and  work  for  the  soldiers. 

u  Now,  things  like  that  don't  start  out  of  the  air,  and 
I  set  out  to  find  out  where  it  came  from.  I  got  a  clever 
fellow  here  that  I  have  had  before  when  trouble  was 
brewing  in  the  wire  mill,  to  sort  of  sound  out  things, 
you  know.  Well,  he  had  not  been  here  long  before  he 
came  to  me  and  said,  '  Mr.  Cowder,  Uncle  Sam  has 
told  me  to  get  off  this  job,  wanted  me  to  tell  you  that 
you  need  not  worry,  that  they  were  looking  after  it.5 
They  must  have  been  confounded  smart,  'these  Secret 
Service  people,  for  I've  never  yet  been  able  to  find  out 
who  they  were,  except  one,  nor  what  they  did.  But  this 
is  what  happened. 

"  Along  the  first  of  March,  a  fine  looking  chap  came 
into  my  office  one  day,  and  asked  to  see  me  alone.  As 
I  shut  the  door,  he  showed  me  his  badge  —  Secret  Serv 
ice.  '  Mr.  Cowder,'  he  said,  '  I  want  to  notify  you 
that  about  a  half  a  dozen  men  in  your  munition  plant, 
one  of  whom  you  have  trusted  greatly — Mr.  Max 
Dalberg  —  will  disappear  from  this  town,  day  after 
to-morrow;  or,  if  not,  the  next  day.  I  would  like  to 
tell  you  the  facts,  but  I  am  under  orders  to  divulge 
nothing,  even  to  you.  I  think  you  and  your  plant  will 
be  safer  if  you  know  nothing  of  it.  We  would  like  to 
have  you  make  no  comments,  but  carry  on  your  work  as 
if  nothing  had  happened.  That's  what  the  Govern 
ment  asks  of  you.' 

'  Well,  Ingraham,  you  know  how  I  felt  about 
Max.  I  would  have  trusted  him  as  soon  as  any  man 
in  this  town,  much  further  than  I  would  Otto  Littman. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  has  been  Otto  that  I  suspected 
all  the  time,  as  you  know.  But  Otto  is  here.  More 
over,  the  same  young  man  that  warned  me  about  Max 
came  back  a  week  later  and  said  to  me  that  he  thought 
that  it  would  be  an  act  of  justice  and  humanity  to 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          239 

support  Otto  Littman  in  the  town,  not  to  let  suspicion 
drive  him  away.  I  cannot  make  head  or  tail  of  it, 
Ingraham.  Only  this  I  know,  that  Max  did  disap 
pear,  along  with  half  a  dozen  of  the  best  workmen 
we  had;  that  Otto  is  still  here.  Moreover,  the  ru 
mors,  the  criticisms  that  filled  the  air,  have  stopped. 
That  fellow  told  me  they  would.  He  told  me  that 
it  was  out  of  my  own  factory  that  these  things  had 
been  coming.  The  town  somehow  got  wind  that 
something  had  been  going  on,  that  the  suspicion  and 
criticisms  which  ran  through  the  streets  were  spread 
by  German  agents,  and  to-day  a  criticism  which  is 
perfectly  well  founded  has  no  chance  at  all.  You 
cannot  even  joke  about  the  conduct  of  the  war  without 
running  the  danger  of  arrest.  Why,  the  funniest 
thing  happened  here  the  other  day  to  John  Commons. 
You  know  Katie  Flaherty,  of  course  —  takes  care  of 
you,  doesn't  she?  Well,  Katie  overhead  John  Com 
mons  criticizing  a  report  that  the  Government  was  go 
ing  to  forbid  the  use  of  starch  in  collars,  make  us  all 
wear  soft  collars.  '  Ha,  ha/  Commons  said,  *  I  sup 
pose  they  want  the  starch  to  stiffen  up  the  backbone  of 
the  soldiers.'  Katie  was  so  incensed  that  she  promptly 
went  to  the  Chief  of  Police  and  reported  Commons. 
He  was  waited  on,  and  it  took  some  real  explanation 
and  expostulation  on  his  part  to  keep  out  of  jail.  It 
tickled  the  town  to  death,  and  John  has  not  been  nearly 
so  voluble  since. 

"  Yes,  there's  a  great  change  come  over  our  spirit, 
and  I  would  give  a  good  deal  to  know  just  what  was 
done,  what  became  of  Max,  what  he  was  planning,  and 
how  they  got  him." 

What  became  of  Max,  what  he  had  planned,  how 
they  got  him,  was  known  to  only  one  person  in  Sabins- 
port.  Offhand  you  would  have  said  that  that  was  the 
last  person  to  keep  a  secret,  for  it  was  Katie  Flaherty. 


24o          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

Since  Mikey's  death,  the  real  occupation  of  Katie 
Flaherty's  life  had  been  hate  of  the  race  that  she  now 
considered  her  personal  enemy.  Dick  had  sometimes 
chided  her  for  this  bitterness.  "  God  forgive  us  all, 
Mr.  Dick,"  she  would  say,  "  I  have  been  saying  we 
ought  to  love  everybody.  Take  the  Jews,  now.  See 
how  they  have  gone  into  the  war,  how  loyal  they  are  to 
the  United  States.  I  tell  the  boys  we  ought  not  to  lay 
it  up  against  them  any  longer  that  they  are  Jews.  But 
a  German,  Mr.  Dick,  that's  different.  He  won't  salute 
the  flag.  And  look  at  the  things  they  do  —  sinking  the 
ships  like  they  did.  Think  of  all  our  grand,  lovely 
young  men  drowned  in  the  sea  —  the  dirty  Germans  — 
sticking  a  ship  in  the  ribs  in  the  night.  I  can't  stand  it 
to  think  of  'em  dead.  I'm  that  foolish  about  the  boys, 
I  can't  see  one  in  the  streets  I  don't  cry,  old  fool  I  am. 
I  won't  never  go  to  another  parade,  Mr.  Dick.  You'd 
been  that  ashamed  of  me  if  you'd  seen  me  at  camp  when 
they  came  marching  up  the  field,  the  thousands  of  'em, 
the  grandest  boys  you  ever  seen.  I  couldn't  see  for 
cryin'  and  it  wasn't  still  cryin'  I  did.  I  did  it  out  loud 
—  but  nobody  laughed,  only  a  strange  man  patted  me 
on  the  back  and  a  woman  went  white  and  said,  '  Stop 
it!  '  fierce  like,  '  Stop  it!  '  so  I  came  home.  I'll  never 
go  to  another  parade. 

"  And  to  think  the  Germans  have  the  heart  to  kill 
'em  —  boys  like  ours.  I'm  fer  drivin'  'em  out  of  the 
country.  They're  all  spies.  There's  the  butcher  over 
on  the  South  Side,  Johann  he  calls  himeslf.  Think  of 
that  Johann  in  the  United  States  —  a  regular  old  Ger 
man,  talkin'  about  the  *  faterland  ' —  can't  say  it  in  Eng 
lish." 

"  Come,  now,"  Dick  said  to  her  once.  "  Johann  has 
been  in  this  country  for  forty  years." 

"What's  that,  Mr.  Dick?  They're  all  the  same; 
you  can't  make  Americans  out  of  'em." 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          241 

She  developed  a  suspicion  of  strangers  that  was  al 
most  a  mania,  and  was  forever  watching  for  evidence 
of  intrigue.  One  morning  she  came  in  to  serve  Dick's 
coffee,  with  a  big  envelope  in  her  hand.  She  was 
handling  it  gingerly  as  if  it  was  something  that  might  ex 
plode.  With  great  solemnity  she  opened  it.  "  Look 
here,  Mr.  Dick.  It's  a  spy  I  found.  I'm  sure  of  it." 
Out  of  her  envelope,  she  pulled  a  big  red  valentine, 
and  dramatically  turned  the  back  to  him.  On  it  was 
written  in  bold  black  letters  the  words,  "  Don't  buy  a 
Liberty  Bond.  The  Kaiser  says  so." 

"  Why,  Katie,"  Dick  said,  "  that's  no  spy's  work, 
that's  a  joke."  But  it  took  much  explanation  for 
Katie  to  see  it.  "  Don't  buy  a  bond  " —  that  to  her 
was  treason.  '  The  Kaiser  says  so,"  more  treason. 
Finally  she  gave  in  to  Dick's  persuasion,  and  she  went 
off  saying,  u  It's  a  fool  I  am,"  but  Dick  always  had  a 
feeling  that  he  had  not  quite  convinced  her. 

Katie's  watchfulness  and  her  self-imposed  task  of 
bringing  every  suspicious  person  to  justice  was  known 
to  everybody  in  Sabinsport.  It  had  long  been  known 
particularly  well  to  the  strange  young  man  who  had 
appeared  in  Reuben  Cowder's  office  early  in  March 
and  warned  him  of  approaching  changes  in  the  force 
at  his  munition  factory.  Other  things  concerning 
Katie  were  known  to  this  same  young  man,  and  one  of 
them  was  that  she  had  a  room  to  rent  on  her  first 
floor. 

The  floor  opening  onto  the  upper  level,  ever  since 
Mikey  went  away,  had  been  rented  by  Mr.  Max  Dai- 
berg.  Downstairs,  opening  onto  the  lower  level  by  a 
little  side  door,  was  an  extra  room  which  Katie  had 
said  recently  for  the  first  time  to  herself  she  would 
rent  if  she  had  a  chance.  She  had  not  put  out  a  shingle 
but  she  had  told  her  neighbors,  so  it  was  not  surprising 
that  one  morning  when  she  was  busy  in  the  rectory  that 


242          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

there  should  have  been  a  knock  at  the  door,  a  call  for 
Mrs.  Flaherty,  an  inquiry  about  a  room  to  rent,  and  a 
bargain  promptly  made. 

Katie  took  to  the  applicant  —  a  jolly,  clean,  keen- 
eyed  American  boy,  older  than  Mikey  but  with  some 
thing  about  him  that  suggested  Mikey.  Himself  a 
grand  fighter,  too,  Katie  had  said  to  herself.  Her  new 
tenant  was  John  Barker,  by  name. 

u  I'm  only  at  home  through  the  daytime,  Mrs.  Fla 
herty,"  he  said.  "  I'm  in  the  mines,  an  engineer,  run 
ning  night  shifts.  I  won't  be  in  before  eight  or  half- 
past  in  the  morning  for  I  get  my  breakfast  over  there. 
I  want  a  quiet  place  to  sleep  through  the  day,  and  I  will 
be  off  by  five  in  the  afternoon.  If  you  want  any 
references  I  can  give  them,  and  here's  a  week's  rent  in 
advance." 

And  Katie,  to  whom  paper  references  meant  little, 
and  the  look  in  a  man's  eye  everything,  had  said,  "  It's 
all  right,  Mr.  Barker,  I  will  have  the  room  ready  to 
night  and  you  can  come  in  in  the  morning.  You  will 
find  the  key  with  Mary  O'Sullivan  next  door." 

And  Katie  that  night,  when  she  went  home,  made 
the  little  room  clean  and  tidy,  put  the  key  to  the  outside 
door  with  Mary  O'Sullivan,  describing  her  new  tenant 
with  enthusiasm. 

He  proved  a  good  tenant,  none  better.  He  came  as 
regularly  as  the  morning  and  went  as  regularly.  His 
presence  in  the  house  was  quite  unknown  to  the  gentle 
man  who  occupied  the  top  floor,  and  who  had  long 
congratulated  himself  on  his  luck  in  having  a  lodging 
over  which  he  had  such  absolute  control.  As  a  mat 
ter  of  fact  there  was  only  one  entrance  to  his  upper 
floor,  save  that  on  the  street.  A  rude  little  staircase 
ran  up  from  the  kitchen  into  a  tiny  square  hall,  and  a 
door  opened  into  the  room  which  had  been  Mikey's. 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          243 

It  was  by  this  door  that  every  afternoon,  when  Katie 
came  home  from  Dick's,  she  went  upstairs  to  make  the 
rooms.  Max's  habits  were  very  regular^ —  exemplary 
person  that  he  was.  He  was  at  the  munition  works  at 
seven  and  never  left  until  five.  His  doors  were  care 
fully  locked  behind  him.  He  had  no  need  to  concern 
himself  about  anything  in  Katie  Flaherty's  house. 

But  in  this  secure  dwelling,  strange  things  were  going 
on  in  those  hours  when  Max  was  at  his  laboratory  and 
Katie  at  the  rectory.  Every  morning,  promptly  at 
8  130,  a  quiet,  tired  looking  young  engineer  unlocked 
the  side  door  of  Katie  Flaherty's  house,  and  drew  his 
curtains. 

But  once  the  curtains  were  drawn,  an  extraordinary 
transformation  took  place.  The  fatigued  face  became 
relaxed,  the  heavy,  dirty  boots  were  replaced  by  the 
softest  of  slippers;  two  very  dangerous  looking  weapons 
were  slipped  into  his  belt;  and  in  the  big  pockets  of  his 
soft  sack  coat  something  that  looked  like  a  pair  of 
handcuffs.  And  then,  with  keys  in  hand,  he  quietly 
slipped  up  the  back  stairs,  opened  this  door  and  began 
an  investigation  of  the  belongings  of  Mr.  Max  Dai- 
berg,  Reuben  Cowder's  "  wonder  of  the  laboratory." 

And  the  things  that  he  found!  You  could  tell  that 
by  the  glint  of  victory  in  his  eye,  by  the  moments 
when  he  would  straighten  himself  and  address  the  air 
in  a  whisper,  "  Could  you  beat  it?  "  When  he  would 
noiselessly  tap  his  thigh  and  say,  "  It's  the  completest 
thing  I  ever  heard  of."  The  young  man  was  making 
out  a  pretty  case  in  Max's  secure  chamber,  little  by 
little,  from  the  papers  and  photographs  which  he  ex 
amined  with  such  scrupulous  care  day  by  day,  always 
leaving  them  exactly  as  he  found  them,  taking  infinite 
pains  not  to  leave  behind  him  any  trace  which  might 
make  Max  suspicious  that  his  privacy  had  been  in- 


244          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

vaded,  and  he  gathered  the  proofs  of  as  fine  a  piece  of 
destructiveness  as  any  planned  within  the  borders  of  the 
United  States  by  the  band  of  plotters  that  Germany 
had  sent  out. 

What  young  Mr.  Barker  found  was  simply  this  — 
a  carefully  laid  scheme,  every  detail  worked  out  with 
German  efficiency,  to  blow  up  simultaneously  every 
munition  plant  in  that  great  district  around  Sabinsport, 
where  now  literally  millions  of  dollars'  worth  of  shells 
and  shrapnel  and  wires  and  guns  were  being  made  for 
the  Allies. 

Max  had  been  very  ambitious.  He  had  not  been 
simply  content  with  doing  away  with  his  own  plant. 
He  had  placed  in  every  one  of  the  neighboring  towns 
agents  that  he  could  depend  upon.  By  months  of  the 
most  careful  plotting  and  arrangement,  he  had  coached 
them  in  their  part.  Oh,  it  was  to  be  a  dramatic  piece  of 
frightfulness.  The  very  day  was  fixed.  Two  weeks 
from  the  time  that  young  Mr.  Barker  finished  photo 
graphing  the  last  piece,  at  ten  o'clock  at  night,  there 
was  to  be  one  grand  explosion,  running  along  the  river 
for  miles,  back  into  the  hills  north  and  south  —  a  piece 
of  destruction  that  would  not  only  rip  every  wheel  apart 
but  shake  the  valley,  tumble  down  its  buildings,  set 
fire  upon  fire,  drive  men  and  women  from  their  homes, 
murder,  destroy.  It  was  the  monstrous  German  imag 
ination  for  destruction  at  its  highest  —  a  great  con 
ception.  Again  and  again  young  Mr.  Barker  had  to 
stop  in  wondering  admiration  at  the  perfection  of  the 
scheme.  "  God!  "  he  said,  "  and  to  think  we  have  got 
him!" 

But  now  the  time  had  come  when  he  had  to  have 
help  —  the  help  of  Katie  Flaherty.  He  knew  he  could 
count  on  her.  He  realized  nothing  would  ever  quiet 
the  pain  in  Katie's  heart  but  to  get  her  German,  to  give 
blow  for  blow.  And  so  one  day,  after  records  and 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE  245 

photographs  were  complete,  after  they  had  been  spread 
before  certain  high  authorities  in  a  near-by  city,  Katie 
had  another  call  from  her  roomer.  It  was  the  first 
time  she  had  seen  him  in  weeks. 

"  And  what  is  it,  Mr.  Barker?  Is  something  going 
wrong?  Did  I  forget  your  towels?  "  she  had  greeted 
him. 

"  Not  at  all,  Mrs.  Flaherty,"  he  said  cheerfully. 
"  You  never  forget  anything.  You  are  the  best  land 
lady  I  ever  had.  But  there's  something  on  my  mind, 
and  I  want  your  help.  May  I  have  a  talk  with  you?  " 

And,  seated  in  the  kitchen  of  the  rectory,  he  laid 
before  her  the  outline  of  what  he  had  discovered.  He 
showed  her  the  big  silver  badge  that  he  wore  beneath 
his  coat,  and  told  her  what  he  wanted.  Briefly,  it  was 
her  cooperation  in  arresting  Max.  She  had  listened, 
amazed,  unbelieving,  and  then,  as  the  truth  dawned 
upon  her,  horrified.  And  when  her  help  was  asked, 
her  whole  bitter  hatred  blazed  up  in  a  passion  of  de 
sire.  Here  was  her  chance!  She'd  get  her  German. 
But  how  were  they  going  to  do  it? 

"  Do  you  ever  go  up  to  his  door  of  an  evening?  " 
he  asked  her. 

"  Every  night  at  nine  o'clock,  I  rap  and  give  him  his 
pitcher  of  fresh  water,  and  sometimes,  when  I  have  it, 
a  bit  of  fruit.  He  has  always  been  such  a  quiet,  gentle 
soul,  playing  his  piano  and  singing  his  songs  —  I  can't 
believe  it's  true." 

;'  It's  true,  Mrs.  Flaherty,"  said  young  Mr.  Barker. 

'What  is  it  you  want?" 

"  Simply  this.  I  will  not  leave  as  usual  to-morrow 
afternoon.  I  will  be  in  my  room.  At  nine  o'clock, 
there  will  be  a  knock  at  your  door,  and  you  will  let  in 
two  men,  with  a  hearty,  "  How  do  you  do,  I  am  glad 
to  see  you."  Then  I  will  ask  you,  Mrs.  Flaherty,  to 
go  ahead  of  us  up  to  the  door,  knock  and  give  Mr. 


246          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

Max  his  pitcher  of  water.  And  then,  Mrs.  Flaherty, 
we  will  take  care  of  him.  Can  you  put  it  through?  " 

She  looked  him  in  the  eye,  and  young  Mr.  Barker 
had  not  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  but  that  he  could  count 
on  her. 

It  is  doubtful  if  Mrs.  Flaherty  could  have  ever  told 
you  what  she  did  in  the  thirty-three  or  thirty-four  hours 
between  the  time  that  Mr.  Barker  closed  the  door  of 
the  rectory  kitchen  and  the  hour  when  she  admitted 
two  stalwart  strangers,  with  an  Irish  laugh  and  greet 
ing  that,  if  the  windows  above  had  been  open,  could 
certainly  have  been  heard. 

The  windows  were  not  open.  If  they  had  been, 
Katie  might  have  heard  an  angry  altercation  going  on. 
When  she  and  the  three  men,  fifteen  minutes  later, 
slipped  up  the  stairs  as  noiselessly  as  so  many  cats, 
they  heard  it;  and  Katie  knew  the  voice  that  was  raised 
to  meet  the  lower,  cruel  tones  of  Max.  It  was  Otto 
Littman's. 

How  well  she  knew  it !  For  thirty  years  Katie  had 
given  her  services  at  every  dinner  that  the  older  Mrs. 
Littman  gave.  She  had  helped  at  every  birthday  party. 
She  had  known  Otto  from  the  time  he  was  put  in  his 
mother's  arms.  And  her  heart  almost  stood  still. 
The  hand  that  held  the  tray  almost  trembled  as  she 
realized  that  this  was  Otto  —  the  son  of  her  good 
friends,  the  only  Germans  in  all  Sabinsport  she  had 
never  suspected  —  who  was  talking.  She  did  not  know 
what  he  said,  but  young  Mr.  Barker  knew.  He  knew 
from  what  he  heard  that  Otto  had  gotten  some  inkling 
of  the  horror  devised,  that  he  was  protesting,  threat 
ening,  declaring  that  whatever  it  cost  him,  even  if  it 
were  his  life,  he  would  reveal  the  horrible  thing. 
Either  Max  must  call  it  off,  or  he,  Otto,  would  stop  it. 
And  the  even,  calm  tones  of  Max  had  said,  "  Too  late, 
Otto.  It's  you  that  will  be  silenced,  not  — " 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          247 

At  that  moment  young  Mr.  Barker  gave  a  nod  to 
Katie,  who,  knocking  loudly,  called  out  in  the  most 
natural  and  cheerful  of  tones  —  so  natural  and  cheer 
ful  that  he  said  to  himself,  "Isn't  she  a  wonder?" 
— "  Here's  your  water,  Mr.  Dalberg,  and  an  ap- 
pie." 

And  Max  Dalberg,  intent  only  on  keeping  up  an  ap 
pearance,  opened  his  door,  and,  as  she  stretched  out 
her  tray,  there  appeared  in  his  face  over  her  shoulders 
the  muzzles  of  two  vicious  looking  guns.  At  the  same 
instant  the  door  was  thrown  open  and  two  powerful 
individuals  had  him  by  the  arms,  and  cuffs  on  his  hands 
and  cuffs  on  his  feet. 

It  had  all  been  done  so  quickly  and  so  quietly  that 
neither  Max  nor  Otto  had  uttered  a  sound.  Nor  did 
any  one  for  a  moment.  Katie  slipped  down  stairs. 
Young  Mr.  Barker  in  his  level  voice  said,  "Mr.  Litt- 
man,  I  have  heard  your  conversation,  so  have  these 
gentlemen.  We  all  understand  German.  It  lets  you 
out.  You  may  go." 

Otto,  looking  him  in  the  eye,  said,  "  I  am  willing  to 
take  my  punishment.  You  will  find  me  at  home  when 
you  want  me.  I  have  some  letters  which  may  help 
you;  they  are  all  at  your  disposal." 

The  exit  of  Mr.  Max  Dalberg  from  Sabinsport  was 
very  quiet.  An  automobile  drove  up  to  his  door  on  the 
upper  level,  as  it  often  did  in  the  evening,  and  three 
gentlemen  came  out  of  the  house.  If  there  had  been 
anybody  to  watch,  they  would  have  noticed  that  the  one 
in  the  middle  was  being  supported.  They  might  have 
thought  him  ill.  He  was  helped  into  the  car,  and  thus 
departed  from  Sabinsport  the  "  wonder  of  the  labora 
tory  "  of  the  munition  plant.  And  thus  ended  his  mag 
nificent  dream  of  frightfulness,  for  at  the  same  hour 
that  he  was  being  quietly  conveyed  in  a  comfortable 
car  out  of  Sabinsport,  various  other  gentlemen  in  vari- 


248          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

ous  other  towns  belonging  to  this  grandiloquent  scheme 
were  undergoing  the  same  experience. 

Katie  slipped  back  to  her  kitchen,  and  her  face  was 
wonderful  to  see.  It  was  the  face  of  the  righteous 
warrior  with  his  enemy's  head  in  his  hands.  It  was 
the  look  that  all  the  Celtic  Flahertys  and  O'Flahertys 
from  the  time  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  invasion,  through  the 
days  of  the  Caesars,  through  all  of  the  centuries  of  Eng 
land's  injustice  to  Ireland,  had  worn.  It  was  the  great 
est  moment  of  Katie  Flaherty's  life. 

There  was  only  one  fly  in  her  ointment  —  she  could 
not  talk  about  it.  She  could  not  tell  Mary  O'Sullivan 
or  Mr.  Dick.  The  hardest  thing  that  could  ever  come 
to  her  was  the  seal  upon  her  lips.  It  was  not  that 
Katie  wanted  to  talk  about  her  part  in  this  thing,  that 
had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  But  it  was  to  tell  of  the 
battle,  to  tell  of  the  defeated  enemy;  it  was  to  tell  of 
the  revenge!  It  was  a  wonderful  story,  and  all  her 
Irish  imagination  cried  out  to  depict  it  to  her  neigh 
bors.  But  she  had  given  her  promise  to  young  Mr. 
Barker,  and,  clever  man  that  he  was,  he  had  put  a  flea 
in  her  bonnet  which  he  knew  would  ensure  absolutely 
closed  lips.  "  You  will  not,  Mrs.  Flaherty,  give  one 
hint  of  what  has  happened.  Your  roomer  upstairs  is 
not  the  only  German  connected  with  this  business. 
The  capture  of  others  depends  upon  absolute  secrecy 
about  what  has  happened  to  Mr.  Dalberg." 

So  Katie,  in  this  cruel  trial  of  silence,  was  sustained 
by  the  hope  that  she  might  get  another  German  scalp. 

This  was  the  reason  that,  when  Dick  came  home,  no 
hint  of  what  had  happened  was  given  him,  though  there 
were  mornings  when  Katie  Flaherty  would  gladly  have 
given  her  good  right  arm  to  have  been  able  to  have 
opened  her  lips  and  pictured  the  whole  magnificent 
scene. 

Now,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  interested  and 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          249 

heartened  as  the  Rev.  Richard  Ingraham  really  was  in 
all  these  changes  that  had  come  over  Sabinsport,  that 
they  either  satisfied  his  heart  or  filled  his  mind.  Night 
and  day,  one  thought  absorbed  him,  stronger  than  all 
others,  one  feeling  mounted  higher  and  higher.  He 
thought  he  had  put  behind  in  the  weeks  of  rest  in  the 
South  —  his  love  for  Nancy  Cowder.  He  thought  he 
had  had  it  out  with  himself.  He  believed  he  had 
made  his  renunciation,  that  he  could  come  back,  work 
with  her  in  camp  and  town,  go  out  as  usual  to  the 
farm  on  Monday  afternoons,  meet  her  easily  and 
naturally  everywhere,  even  see  outwardly  unmoved  the 
day  come  which  he  believed  thoroughly  would  come, 
when  she  would  marry  Otto  Littman.  And,  though  it 
is  improbable  that  he  could  have  gone  through  the  or 
deal  with  anything  like  the  control  and  certainty  that 
he  had  persuaded  himself  was  possible,  yet  such  is  my 
confidence  in  the  man  that  I  believe  he  would  have  put  it 
through  if,  when  he  returned,  he  had  not  divined, 
rather  than  learned,  that  there  had  been  a  great  change 
in  the  relations  of  Otto  and  Nancy. 

It  was  not  a  change,  so  far  as  he  could  judge,  from 
which  he  had  a  right  to  draw  hope.  He  told  himself 
again  and  again  that,  on  the  contrary,  the  change 
probably  only  meant  that  later,  when  the  war  was  over 
perhaps,  when  suspicion  of  Otto  had  passed  and  Nancy 
was  released  from  her  labors  in  the  camp,  that  again 
they  would  seek  each  other;  yet  the  fact  that  at  this  mo 
ment  they  were  not  seeking  each  other,  that  so  far  as  he 
could  make  out,  they  were  not  seeing  each  other,  gave 
Dick  an  unreasoning  encouragement.  In  spite  of  him 
self,  his  dreams  came  back.  In  spite  of  himself  he 
saw  more  and  more  of  Nancy  Cowder. 

What  had  happened  with  Otto,  he  could  not  make 
out.  Otto  still  remained  in  town.  It  was  certain  that 
Reuben  Cowder,  as  well  as  other  leading  men  who  once 


250          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

had  shunned  him,  were  taking  pains  to  support  him. 
It  was  evident  that  a  great  burden  had  been  raised 
from  Rupert  Littman's  heart.  Never  had  he  been 
so  affectionate,  so  proud  of  Otto  as  now.  That  is,  at 
the  very  head  of  Sabinsport  business,  where  suspicion 
of  Otto  had  first  begun,  there  had  been  a  great  change. 
These  men,  if  you  asked  them,  would  tell  you  that  they 
knew  it  to  be  a  fact,  from  the  very  highest  authority, 
that  Otto  Littman  had  rendered  the  Secret  Service  of 
the  United  States  a  tremendous  service;  they  knew  it 
to  be  a  fact  that  he  had  run  the  danger  of  losing  his 
own  life  in  order  to  save  the  lives  of  others.  That 
was  as  far  as  they  would  go  —  as  a  matter  of  fact,  that 
was  as  far  as  they  could  go.  But  the  authority  on 
which  these  facts  were  stated  was  so  unimpeachable 
that  there  was  not  a  man  of  them  that  doubted,  and 
there  was  not  a  man  of  them  that  was  not  doing  his 
best  for  Otto. 

But  this  had  not  won  him  Nancy  Cowder,  Dick 
found.  A  change  had  come  over  the  girl.  She  was 
much  quieter.  But  that  might  be  because  of  her  con 
tinuous  work  at  the  camp;  work  which  she  never  left, 
which,  whatever  the  effort  and  the  strain  called  for,  she 
always  gave.  Reuben  Cowder  was  anxious  about  his 
daughter,  with  good  reason,  and  one  of  his  first  re 
quests  of  Dick  on  his  return  was  to  try  to  bring  her  to 
her  senses. 

And  yet  Dick  in  his  foolish  heart  argued  that  it  was 
not  the  work  at  all,  that  her  pallor  came  from  pain 
over  a  break  with  Otto;  and  though  many  a  night  he 
had  wild  fancies  that  this  was  not  so,  he  always  told 
himself  in  the  morning  that  he  was  wrong,  that  it  was 
only  a  matter  of  time  when  the  breech  between  them 
would  be  healed,  that  it  was  his  business  to  keep  away 
from  her. 

And  so,  through  weeks  of  labor,  Nancy  and  Dick 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE         251 

steadily  went  their  ways,  each  unconscious  of  what  was 
in  the  heart  of  the  other,  each  valiantly  resolved  that 
they  would  make  no  sign  that  would  hurt  the  other, 
and  yet  daily  each  growing  closer  to  the  other. 


CHAPTER  XI 

IT  is  only  when  one  loves  a  town  as  Richard  Ingra- 
ham  loved  Sabinsport  that  one  is  conscious  of  the 
currents  of  unrest,  of  groping,  of  joy  and  of  grief 
that  fluctuate  through  it  as  truly  as  they  fluctuate 
through  the  soul  of  man  or  woman.  Love  makes  one 
sensitive  —  sensitive  to  fleeting  shadows  that  others 
never  see,  to  secret  hopes  and  faiths  that  others  never 
know.  Dick  had  not  been  long  home  before  he  began 
to  understand  that  Sabinsport,  hammering  at  her  war 
tasks  like  a  Vulcan,  hating  her  enemy  as  robustly  and 
openly  as  any  primitive  deity,  still  was  restless  in  heart, 
dissatisfied  with  the  war,  untouched  by  its  loftiest  aims 
and  hopes. 

Something  more  in  experience  must  come  to  Sabins 
port,  thought  Dick;  and  he  sometimes  wondered  if  it 
would  have  to  be  a  baptism  of  blood.  She  would  stick 
—  stick  to  the  end,  he  felt.  Indeed,  he  did  not  be 
lieve  that  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  combined  could 
pry  Sabinsport  now  from  the  task  to  which  she  had 
put  her  hand.  But  he  wanted  more  from  her  in  carry 
ing  out  this  task  —  a  fuller  sense  of  the  bigness  of  the 
thing  in  which  she  was  engaged.  Where  was  it  all  to 
come  from? 

As  the  spring  drive  of  the  Germans  pounded  back 
farther  and  farther  the  English  and  French  lines,  the 
anxiety  in  Sabinsport  grew,  intensified.  Out  of  it  Dick 
saw  coming  one  emotion  that  greatly  rejoiced  him. 
Sabinsport,  through  all  the  war,  had  never  any  very 
strong  feeling  for  England.  To  Belgium  and  France 
she  had  given  her  heart,  a  little  of  it  had  gone  to  Serbia, 
England  never  had  won  more  than  a  slightly  grudging 

252 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          253 

recognition;  but  now,  when  that  amazing  army  stood 
with  its  back  to  the  sea,  and  the  world  realized  that 
though  every  man  might  fall,  no  man  would  surrender, 
something  broke  in  Sabinsport. 

For  the  first  time  she  realized  something  of  the  full 
ness  and  the  nobility  of  the  English  sacrifice  —  how 
with  characteristic  English  quiet,  the  nation  had  put 
everything  in  and  called  it  a  "  bit."  To  Dick,  whose 
love  of  English  hearts  and  English  ways  and  whose 
faith  in  the  unconquerable  English  soul  was  second  only 
to  his  love  and  faith  in  America,  this  belated  under 
standing  of  England  by  Sabinsport  gave  both  joy  and 
hope.  She  was  beginning  to  see  things.  They  were 
getting  down  into  her  soul. 

As  the  days  went  on  and  the  Germans  drew  nearer 
and  nearer  to  Paris,  as  the  city  was  actually  shelled, 
and  as  rumors  came  of  preparations  for  a  siege,  with 
all  the  doubts  they  brought  of  its  being  possible  for  her 
to  long  withstand  it,  something  like  panic  seized  Sabins 
port —  an  almost  angry  panic.  Where,  where  were 
the  Americans?  For  what  had  she  been  making  all 
her  great  effort?  Why,  but  to  stay  the  invading 
hordes?  Were  we  too  late?  Were  these  hundred 
thousands  of  men  that  we  boasted  now  of  having  landed 
in  so  short  a  time,  to  come  in  only  in  time  to  see  the 
destruction  of  France  and  the  certain  invasion  and  de 
struction  of  England,  which  Sabinsport  believed  that 
would  mean?  Doubt  and  anger  and  horror  possessed 
her. 

And  then  suddenly  the  American  army  did  appear. 
There  was  Cantigny,  and  then,  in  the  very  nick  of  time, 
the  last  moment,  when  the  wearied  and  overwhelmed 
French  were  actually  in  retreat,  our  boys  came  — 
Sabinsport's  boys;  and,  careless  of  the  long  journeys 
which  had  brought  them  to  the  spot  —  the  sleepless 
hours,  they  broke  over  the  foe,  beat  him  down,  beat 


254         THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

him  back,  followed,  defied,  laughed  at  his  boasted 
formations,  his  impregnable  trenches,  his  deadly  nests 
of  guns.  It  was  true,  as  the  most  experienced  and 
hardened  French  cried,  Rien  les  arreste  • —  Nothing 
stops  them  !  Nothing  stops  them ! 

When  the  story  of  Chateau-Thierry  came  back  to 
Sabinsport,  men  shook  one  another's  hands,  clapped 
one  another  on  the  back,  told  over  and  over  every 
item  they  could  gather.  Captain  Billy  walked  up  and 
down  the  street,  not  ashamed  of  tears,  crying,  "  I  knew 
they  would  do  it.  Just  like  the  boys  of  '61."  They 
treasured  every  story  of  reckless  exploit,  of  dare- 
deviltry.  "  That's  our  boys.  Just  like  them !  "  And 
they  were  even  prouder  of  the  fact  that,  reckless  and 
unafraid  as  they  showed  themselves,  they  had  known 
how  to  take  discipline,  to  play  the  game  according  to 
rules,  that  the  wisest  of  English  and  French  generals 
were  saying,  "  They  are  good  soldiers." 

Chateau-Thierry  and  the  weeks  of  struggle  that 
drove  back  the  Hun  from  the  lovely  Marne  country, 
back  through  Soissons,  back  to  the  Aisne  —  those  were 
great  days  for  Sabinsport;  and  particularly  they  were 
great  days  for  the  War  Board. 

The  War  Board,  said  Dick  to  himself,  has  settled 
down  to  enjoy  the  war. 

It  spent  its  nightly  sessions  in  recounting  tales  of 
heroism.  Every  list  of  citations  for  bravery  was  gone 
over  item  by  item,  under  the  leadership  of  Captain 
Billy.  At  first  they  set  out  to  remember  the  names, 
those  wonderful  names,  not  only  American,  but  Rus 
sian,  Greek,  Rumanian,  Pole,  Italian,  Serb,  Chinese 
and  —  yes,  German  —  even  German.  "  By  the  Jump 
ing  Jehoshaphat,"  Captain  Billy  would  say,  "  we've  got 
them  all  —  every  blamed  nation  on  earth  —  and  every 
one  Americans.  They  have  all  got  it  —  good  Ameri 
can  grit.  It  don't  make  any  difference  where  their 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE         255 

names  come  from,  there  isn't  one  of  them  but  dies  with 
his  face  to  the  Hun."  Over  and  over  they  recounted 
the  gallant  stories  —  of  men  going  out  from  shelters 
into  which  they  had  been  ordered,  to  carry  in  wounded, 
and  sometimes  receiving  their  own  death  bullet  as  they 
laid  their  man  in  a  place  of  safety  —  of  their  quick 
strategy  in  surrounding  machine  gun  nests  and  their 
fearless  hand  to  hand  fights  with  the  crews.  And  then 
those  tales  of  the  way  they  ran  in  their  prisoners. 
Captain  Billy  was  never  tired  relating  the  historic  tale 
of  the  sergeant  from  the  New  York  East  Side  who 
came  back  with  159  prisoners  and  complained  to  his 
superior  officer  that  "  one  had  died  on  him." 

And  nothing  so  delighted  Captain  Billy  as  the  tales 
that  came  over  of  the  doughboy's  directness  and  com 
mon  sense  in  an  emergency.  '  Just  like  them.  Don't 
phase  them  a  bit.  Just  as  much  at  home  over  there  as 
here.  I  guess  they're  teaching  them  down-trodden 
1  European  countries  the  kind  of  men  a  free  country 
makes.  Read  about  the  doughboy  and  his  mules? 
Harness  broke  —  mules  ran  away  —  turned  them  into 
a  tree  —  smashed  one  —  jumped  out,  looked  at  him, 
saw  he  was  done  up,  shot  him,  rigged  up  and  went 
ahead, —  never  said  a  word,  never  asked  anybody  any 
thing,  just  did  what  was  necessary.  They  say  those 
French  poilus  haven't  stopped  talking  about  it  yet. 
They  would  have  held  an  inquest,  sent  in  a  report,  and 
probably  stopped  the  work  of  that  train  for  a  week. 
That's  the  difference." 

Dick  was  deeply  touched  to  notice  how  every  now 
and  then  in  the  rejoicings  somebody  in  the  War  Board 
would  nod  up  at  Lieutenant  Mikey,  looking  down  on 
them  from  the  wall,  and  say,  "  What  a  pity  he  couldn't 
have  been  in  it  now;  couldn't  have  fought  with  his  own 
men.  But  he  was  our  first  one,  we  must  never  forget 
that."  Nor  did  they  forget  their  other  heroes.  Often 


256          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

and  often  they  would  nod  up  to  Albert  on  the  wall,  and 
say,  u  Hold  on,  old  fellow,  your  time  is  coming."  Or 
to  Joffre,  "  Feeling  pretty  good  to-night,  ain't  you, 
Papa  Joffre?  "  Oh,  the  War  Board  was  certainly  en 
joying  the  war  —  now  that  it  was  going  their  way. 

While  the  War  Board  regaled  itself  with  stories 
of  doughboy  exploits  at  Cantigny  and  Chateau-Thierry, 
the  saving  of  Rheims,  the  capture  of  Soissons;  while 
it  speculated  over  the  big  gun  —  where  it  was,  how 
it  operated  —  quarreled  over  the  merits  of  arms, 
and  exhausted  itself  in  devising  methods  of  destroying 
Germany  —  the  town  outside,  the  busy,  working  town, 
seemed  sometimes  to  Dick  almost  to  be  living  in  France 
with  the  boys.  Quite  wonderfully  and  naturally  they 
had  built  up  from  what  came  to  them  in  letters  and  news 
the  life  of  their  boys  over  there.  Of  course  they  were 
proud  of  their  exploits,  but  they  did  not  want  to  dwell 
too  much  on  them;  they  meant  ghastly  wounds  or  death 
—  what  they  wanted  to  know  was  just  how  the  boys 
lived,  and  where,  the  kind  of  beds  they  slept  on,  the 
kind  of  food  they  ate,  whether  it  was  really  true  that 
when  they  fell  ill  they  had  the  care  that  they  ought  to 
have;  and  all  of  this,  this  eagerness  to  know  where  the 
boys  were  and  how  they  were  getting  on  in  detail,  made 
every  letter  that  came  almost  a  matter  of  town  im 
portance. 

It  was  quite  amazing  how  the  contents  of  these  let 
ters  circulated.  The  very  arrival  of  one  was  known, 
sometimes,  in  advance  of  its  delivery,  for  the  post  office 
force  took  notice  when  a  letter  from  anybody  in  the 
A.  E.  F.  arrived,  and  I  have  known  it  more  than  once  to 
happen  that  if  a  letter  came  in  Saturday  night  —  there 
was  no  Sunday  delivery  —  one  of  the  postal  clerks 
would  run  immediately  to  the  telephone  and  call  up, 
"  Hello,  Mrs.  B.,  here's  a  letter  for  you  from  Tom,  if 
you  want  to  come  down  and  get  it.  None  of  us  can 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          257 

get  away  much  before  midnight."  You  can  imagine 
how  quickly  Mrs.  B.  went  or  sent. 

The  great  interest  and  excitement  of  the  postmen's 
life  in  those  days  was  delivering  the  letters  from  the 
A.  E.  F.  It  was  the  practice  of  these  functionaries  in 
Sabinsport  to  put  the  mail  in  the  box  outside,  if  you  had 
one;  to  throw  it  on  the  steps  if  you  had  not;  or  some 
times,  if  it  rained,  to  try  your  door  and  throw  it  in  the 
hall;  but  whenever  there  was  a  letter  from  a  soldier 
none  of  these  things  were  sufficient.  Your  bell  rang 
with  an  eager,  insistent  cry  which  said,  "  There's  a  let 
ter  from  Tom."  And  the  next  morning,  the  prob 
abilities  are  that  the  postman  lingered  a  bit  to  see  if  you 
didn't  come  out  and  tell  him  personally  something  of 
what  was  in  the  letter.  And  you  did  it.  Oh,  how 
you  loved  to  tell  what  was  in  the  letter?  And  how  it 
went  up  and  down  the  town  and  everybody  telephoned 
and  compared  it  with  what  was  in  Frank's  letter,  or 
Will's  letter. 

After  the  letters,  Sabinsport's  great  interest  was 
The  Stars  and  Stripes.  There  was  no  paper  published 
on  the  globe  so  popular  in  the  town.  A  half  dozen  of 
the  boys  had  been  inspired  to  send  it  home  by  the  clever 
appeal  of  the  paper  itself.  "  Do  the  home  folks  a 
good  turn  by  having  us  send  them  The  Stars  and  Stripes 
every  week,"  the  editor  said  at  the  head  of  his  page,  in 
an  appealing  display  type.  "  There  are  not  many 
things  you  can  do  from  this  side  of  the  water,"  he  said, 
"  for  your  folks  or  your  old  pal  or  that  girl  back  home. 
The  Stars  and  Stripes  would  come  to  them  like  another 
letter  every  week  or  another  little  present." 

The  doughboys  had  not  passed  it  up,  as  he  advised, 
and  the  paper  came  to  be  to  the  home  folks  all  that  he 
had  prophesied.  Intimate,  natural,  humorous,  elo 
quent,  the  best  bit  of  editing  the  war  had  inspired,  The 
Stars  and  Stripes  brought  to  Sabinsport  such  a  sense  of 


25 8  THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

how  the  boys  were  thinking  and  feeling  and  acting,  the 
whole  town  was  comforted  and  helped.  One  supreme 
consolation  it  brought  —  the  certainty  that  whatever 
the  war  might  be  doing  to  their  boys,  it  was  not  chang 
ing  their  tastes.  The  Stars  and  Stripes  proved  that. 
It  was  "  just  like  them." 

Although  it  was  known  that  many  of  their  men  were 
with  the  divisions  fighting  along  the  Marne,  and  al 
though  every  night  when  the  Argus  came,  the  first  thing 
that  the  town  turned  to  was  the  casualty  list,  they  went 
a  long  time  untouched  —  so  long  that  Sabinsport  came 
to  have  a  curious  kind  of  jealousy.  The  City,  twenty- 
five  miles  away,  had  lost  heavily.  She  rejoiced,  and 
yet  she  somehow  wanted  to  pay  her  price. 

But  when  it  came  —  poor  little  Sabinsport !  It  came 
like  a  stroke  of  lightning.  One  evening  Dick  was 
called  up  by  Ralph's  successor  in  the  Argus  office. 
"  Parson,"  he  said,  in  a  broken  voice,  "  I  wish  you 
would  come  down.  It's  dreadful!  The  casualty  list 
has  just  come  in  —  there  are  twelve  of  our  men  dead, 
Parson  —  twelve  of  Sabinsport's  boys.  Ralph's  name 
is  among  them.  How  are  we  going  to  get  it  to  the 
people?  There  is  no  notice  to  any  family  yet,  as  I 
know,  and  I  cannot  call  them  up.  Won't  you  come 
down  and  help  me?  " 

It  was  not  long  before  Dick  was  bending  over  the 
list;  and  the  two  men  were  asking  themselves  who 
would  better  go  here,  who  there,  who's  the  friend  of 
this  family,  who  the  friend  of  that?  They  called  up 
the  priest  for  the  three  of  his  own  boys;  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Pepper,  who,  in  spite  of  his  pacifism,  still  had  kept  a 
gentle  heart,  for  one  of  his  flock.  They  called  up  Jake 
Mulligan,  and  between  them  the  sad  duty  was  per 
formed. 

The  news  flew.  All  Sabinsport  wept  that  night. 
The  next  morning  there  was  laid  at  every  door  in  town 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          259 

—  subscribers  or  not  —  a  little  extra  sheet  of  the 
Argus  —  Sabinsport's  Honor  Roll.  And  first  in  the 
list  was  the  name  of  Lieut.  Michael  Sullivan,  killed  at 
Delville  Wood,  July  15,  1916. 

It  fell  to  Dick  to  go  to  Patsy.  It  was  nearly  mid 
night  when  he  called  up  Father  McCullon  and  told  him. 
"  Wait  until  morning,"  the  old  man  said,  "  and  come 
yourself,  Dick.  Mother  and  I  could  never  do  it." 

Patsy  had  been  back  in  Sabinsport  since  the  begin 
ning  of  the  year.  After  her  marriage  she  lived  near 
Ralph's  camp  until  he  had  sailed  in  January.  By  a 
fortune  which  seemed  to  both  of  them  miraculous,  he 
had  been  promoted  until  he  was  a  lieutenant  in  the  Rain 
bow  Division.  He  had  sailed,  believing  that  he  would 
soon  be  in  the  trenches.  To  Patsy,  as  to  him,  this  had 
been  a  matter  of  glad  rejoicing.  She  had  come  back 
so  proudly  to  Sabinsport  that  Mary  Sabins  had  been 
shocked.  "  To  think  anybody,"  she  had  said  to  Patsy, 
"  could  rejoice  when  her  husband  was  in  danger  of  his 
life.  I  cannot  understand  it,  Patsy,  and  you  in  your 
condition,  too," —  for  Patsy  was  scarcely  less  proud  or 
less  open  about  the  fact  that  Ralph  was  in  France  in 
the  trenches  than  that  she  soon  would  be  a  mother  — 
the  mother  of  a  little  Ralph,  she  proudly  announced, 
for  she  seemed  to  have  no  doubt  in  the  world  that  she 
would  bear  a  son.  "  Ralph  wanted  a  son." 

The  boy  had  come  in  the  spring.  Never  in  her 
capable,  vivid  life  had  Patsy  been  so  proud  and  so 
joyous. 

And  Ralph  was  dead,  and  Dick  was  on  his  way  to  the 
farm-house  to  tell  her.  It  was  early  when  he  came  up 
the  walk  —  and  Patsy,  radiant  and  beautiful  —  oh,  far 
more  beautiful  than  she  had  ever  been  —  met  him  at 
the  door,  for  she  had  seen  him  coming.  She  needed  no 
telling.  With  that  divination  of  womankind  whose 
loved  ones  are  at  the  front,  Patsy  sensed  that  Dick 


260          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

brought  her  sorrowful  news  of  Ralph.  She  did  not 
even  lose  her  color,  but,  taking  him  by  the  hand,  led 
him  into  the  cheerful  sitting  room  where,  before  the 
fire,  little  Ralph  was  cooing  in  his  crib.  She  took  the 
baby  up,  and  standing  straight  and  proud,  said,  "  Tell 
me,  Dick." 

"Ralph's  name  is  on  the  casualty  list,  Patsy  — 
among  the  dead.  But  do  not  lose  hope,"  he  pled, 
"  it  may  be  a  mistake." 

"  It  is  not  a  mistake,  Dick.  He  knew  it.  I  knew  it. 
We  fought  it  out  together.  I  promised  to  live  to  raise 
our  son.  Take  him,  Dick  —  take  him,"  and  she  held 
out  the  child,  crumpling  to  the  floor  as  Dick  sprang  to 
her  side. 

Stricken  as  she  was  —  so  stricken  that  in  the  coming 
days  life  itself  seemed  to  ooze  from  her  veins  and  she 
lay  for  hours  in  long  white  swoons,  the  spirit  of  her 
remained  undaunted.  She  had  made  her  sacrifice  when 
she  said  good-by  to  her  husband.  As  Ralph  had  had 
to  fight  like  every  man  of  passionate  heart  and  living 
imagination  to  conquer  his  natural  fear  of  death  in  bat 
tle,  so  Patsy  had  fought  to  conquer  her  fear  of  his  loss. 
Both  had  won,  for  when  the  test  came  both  were  vic 
torious. 

Ralph,  so  they  learned  one  day,  had  lost  his  life  in 
the  full  tide  of  battle.  His  company  had  been  ordered 
to  secure  a  foothold  on  the  high  northern  bank  of  a 
river  to  which  the  army  had  fought  its  way.  They 
had  been  led  with  extraordinary  skill  and  courage,  but 
in  crossing  one  after  another  of  the  officers  had  been 
killed  until  Ralph  was  left  alone  in  command.  He 
took  his  men  through  the  last  cruel  shelling  to  the  de 
sired  objective,  but  in  the  final  push  he  was  fatally 
wounded.  Even  then  he  had  refused  to  give  up  and 
for  hours  continued  to  direct  his  men  as  they  literally 
clawed  their  way  into  the  side  of  the  bluff.  "  He  would 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          261 

not  die,"  wrote  home  one  grieving  young  soldier,"  un 
til  he  knew  we  were  safe." 

And  Patsy  made  her  fight  as  bravely.  She  held  her 
head  high.  Had  she  not  little  Ralph,  who,  so  they  had 
both  agreed,  was  one  day  to  carry  on  his  father's  work 
for  justice  and  peace  among  men?  If  there  were  times 
when  it  seemed  as  if  her  brave  heart  must  break  with 
pain,  no  one  ever  saw  her  shed  a  tear  or  say  other  than, 
"  I  would  not  have  held  him  back,  no,  not  even  to  have 
him  here  to-day." 

It  was  to  the  honor  and  the  sanctification  of  Sabins- 
port  that  the  bereaved  took  their  sorrow  as  they  did. 
It  was  more.  Out  of  their  loss  there  seemed  to  come 
to  the  town  a  mysterious  illumination,  the  enlarged 
sense  of  what  it  was  all  about,  which  Dick  had  so  de 
sired  for  her,  which  he  had  felt  so  keenly  she  should 
have,  to  sustain  her.  Wounded  and  hurt  as  she  was, 
the  town  had  to  find  a  reason,  a  great  reason,  to  justify 
it  all.  Defending  laws  on  sea  or  land  that  had  grown 
out  of  past  struggles  between  nations  was  not  enough; 
vengeance  was  not  enough,  not  even  avenging  wrongs 
as  great  as  Belgium  and  the  Lusitania.  Sabinsport 
needed  to  feel  that  out  of  this  sacrifice  there  should 
come  some  new  conception  of  life,  some  greater  guar 
antee  of  more  joy  and  freedom  to  more  people,  some 
pledge  that  in  future  times  there  was  hope  of  less  sor 
row,  less  hunger,  less  pain  everywhere  on  the  earth. 
This,  she  finally  saw,  was  what  it  was  all  about;  and  in 
groping  toward  this  realization  there  came  to  Sabins 
port  something  that  was  akin  to  a  new  faith,  and  with 
this  she  was  for  the  first  time  fully  and  unalterably 
reconciled  to  the  Great  War. 

It  was  no  longer  grim  determination,  no  longer 
hatred  of  an  enemy  that  she  despised,  that  held  her  to 
the  undertaking.  It  was  a  large  and  luminous  faith 
that  out  of  it  all  a  long  step  had  been  taken  toward 


262          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

realizing  that  new  world  to  which,  since  the  beginning 
of  time,  men  have  lifted  their  eyes. 

It  was  amazing  how  the  town  softened  under  the 
touch  of  its  sorrow,  how  many  old  feuds  sank  out  of 
sight,  how  much  warmer  grew  everybody's  heart. 
"  It's  doing  something  to  us,  Dick,"  Reuben  Cowder 
said  to  him  one  day.  "  Why,  I  even  heard  Captain 
Billy  speak  approvingly  of  Wilson  to-day." 

It  did  something  to  Dick.  It  made  easier  his  re 
nunciation  of  Nancy  which  he  still  believed  was  his  duty. 
That  was  his  part,  his  sacrifice,  he  told  himself.  He 
must  give  himself  now  to  keeping  alive,  feeding  this 
new  sense  that  had  come  to  the  town;  and  he  threw 
himself  with  enthusiasm  into  the  work  of  explaining  to 
Sabinsport  the  national  aspirations  and  hopes  that  be 
gan  to  take  form  in  the  unfamiliar  countries  of  Europe. 
At  the  camp,  at  the  Boys'  Club,  in  his  church,  and  at 
the  War  Board,  Dick  made  himself  the  advocate  of 
Serbian  and  Bohemian,  Czecho-Slav  and  Pole.  For 
the  first  time  in  all  Sabinsport's  life,  she  began  really 
to  sense  that  these  strange  men  who  filled  her  mines 
and  her  factories  carried  in  their  hearts  loves  for  their 
lands  like  hers  for  America;  that  they,  too,  had  dreams 
—  some  of  them  coming  down  from  hundreds  of  years 
of  struggle  —  of  freedom  and  equal  opportunity  in 
their  own  nations.  And  her  chivalry,  her  sense  of  pro 
tection,  her  determination  to  help  them  see  it  through, 
grew  with  her  knowledge. 

It  was  perhaps  quite  natural  that,  as  the  days  went 
on,  Dick  should  come  to  feel  that  Sabinsport  had  had  a 
change  of  heart  so  profound  that  it  had  softened  even 
her  bitterness  against  Germany,  itself.  It  was  this 
feeling  that  he  might  even  talk  mercifulness  to  Sabins 
port  now  that  led  him  into  what  afterwards  was  known 
as  "  the  Parson's  Big  Break." 

It  was  not  until  October  that  Dick  was  able  to  bring 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          263 

himself  to  believe  that  at  last  the  Allies  had  the  upper 
hand.  From  the  start  he  had  seen  the  war  as  long  — 
long  —  long.  It  was  that  that  made  him  suffer  so. 
Cantigny,  Chateau-Thierry,  the  falling  back  to  the 
Vesle  —  none  of  these  things  had  really  convinced  him. 
But  when  the  Americans  captured  St.  Mihiel,  follow 
ing  on  the  break  in  the  North,  he  suddenly  realized  the 
splendid  scheme  on  which  the  great  French  general 
was  working.  "  She's  beaten,"  he  said,  "  she's  beaten. 
It  will  take  time,  but  we've  got  her."  No  longer  was 
it,  as  the  French  had  said  it  in  that  unquenchable  faith 
of  theirs  —  On  les  aura;  it  was  no  On  les  a. 

And  as  the  days  went  on  and  he  became  more  and 
more  certain,  his  imagination  flew  ahead  to  the  time 
when  the  Allies  would  reach  the  borders  of  enemy  ter 
ritory.  He  had  his  theory  about  this:  Germany 
would  unconditionally  surrender  before  she  would  al 
low  the  Allies  to  fight  on  her  territory. 

But  he  could  not  give  up  the  idea  that  the  Allies 
should  enter  Berlin  —  not  as  destroyers  but  as  world 
peacemakers.  He  meditated  much  on  this,  and  at  last 
one  October  Sunday  morning  preached  a  sermon  on 
the  text:  "He  that  is  slow  to  anger  is  better  than 
the  mighty.  And  he  that  ruleth  his  spirit  than  he  that 
taketh  a  city." 

At  the  head  of  his  notes  he  had  put  a  title,  "  The 
Great  Revenge."  As  he  talked  his  imagination  kin 
dled,  and  almost  before  he  knew  it  he  fell  into  a  rhap 
sody  : 

"  In  thinking  of  that  great  day  —  the  day  when  vic 
tory  is  near^and  certain,"  he  said,  "  I  have  dreamed  a 
dream,  and  in  this  dream  I  have  seen  the  Allied  states 
men  and  their  military  leaders  gathered  for  a  final 
conference  which  they  believed  will  be  the  last  before 
the  end  of  this  greatest  of  human  tragedies. 

"  With  the  terms  for  the  world  settlement  outlined 


264          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

and  accepted,  with  a  full  knowledge  of  the  military 
situation  before  them,  with  a  sober  certainty  that  vic 
tory  is  in  their  hands,  though  it  may  be  delayed,  the 
conference  is  ready  to  disband.  And  it  is  then  that  an 
American  general,  whom  first  the  Allied  military  forces 
and  later  the  Allied  diplomats  had  come  to  listen  to 
with  respect,  if  not  eagerness,  not  only  for  the  knowl 
edge  and  fine  judgment  that  he  brought  to  their  coun 
cils  but  because  of  a  quality  of  spiritual  insight  which 
many  of  them  believed  to  amount  to  genius  —  it  was 
then  that  this  American  general  asked  a  hearing. 

u  '  As  you  know,'  he  said,  *  I  am  in  the  fullest  agree 
ment  with  every  conclusion  of  this  conference.  I  be 
lieve  that  the  military  situation  of  the  Allied  armies 
has  been  rightly  presented,  that  nothing  has  been  con 
cealed  of  either  weakness  or  strength,  that  the  conclu 
sion  that  the  enemy  must  soon  yield  is  inevitable  from 
the  facts  that  have  been  laid  before  us.  What  I  ask 
the  privilege  of  saying  to  this  conference  will  add  noth 
ing  to  what  you  already  know,  it  will  add  nothing  to 
the  plan  of  world  reorganization  which  has  been  sug 
gested.  It  is  not  a  matter  on  which  action  is  required. 
It  may  be  called  a  dream  or  a  vision,  as  you  please. 
I  only  beg  that  you  will  listen,  and  not  deride,  for  what 
I  have  to  say  comes  from  an  inner  conviction  so  deep 
that  to  withhold  it  would  be  for  me  little  better  than 
treason  to  the  great  end  of  all  this  suffering,  this  labor 
of  spirit  and  of  mind  through  which  we  have  gone  in 
these  many  hard  years. 

"  '  The  enemy  will  soon  yield.  I  am  one  of  those 
that  believe  that  he  will  yield  at  or  before  his  last  line 
of  defense.  I  believe  this,  not  because  I  think  that  line 
less  strong  than  it  has  been  represented,  less  strong 
than  the  enemy  himself  has  boasted  it  to  be  —  it  may 
be  the  most  nearly  impregnable  line  of  defense  that 
has  been  constructed  in  all  the  history  of  the  world  — 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          265 

I  believe  he  will  yield  because  I  believe  that  yielding  at 
this  point  is  the  inevitable  result  of  his  own  lifelong 
military  teachings. 

"  '  Germany  has  held  that  those  people  she  wished 
to  subdue  could  be  frightened  into  submission.  Her 
people  have  been  schooled  for  years  to  believe  that  by 
inventing  new  and  unheard  of  ways  of  destruction,  by 
attacking  the  defenseless,  by  stealthily  striking  where 
the  laws  of  war  had  forbidden  men  to  strike,  they 
could  so  terrorize  the  world  that  it  would  submit  to 
her  supremacy  without  long  resistance.  She  has 
learned  that  neither  the  French  nor  the  English,  the 
Italian  nor  the  American  people  can  be  terrorized. 
She  has  learned  that  free  people  have  no  fear  of  human 
devices,  however  hideous  and  destructive. 

"  '  But  what  is  the  logical  result  of  this  story  of 
teaching  on  the  minds  of  the  people  who  teach  it? 
This  doctrine  of  frightfulness  will  —  already  has  — 
acted  as  a  boomerang.  There  is  not  a  military  man 
in  this  room  who  has  not,  from  the  beginning  of  his 
experience  with  the  enemy,  found  that  when  their  own 
methods  were  turned  back  they  were  the  quickest  to 
say  "  Enough/'  When  we  turned  their  own  infernal 
gas  inventions  against  them  they  appealed  to  the  laws 
of  war.  When,  after  months  and  months  of  endur 
ance  of  their  bombardment  of  peaceful  towns  and 
countrysides,  England,  in  despair  and  rage,  retaliated, 
they  again  appealed  to  the  laws  of  war.  The  natural 
reaction  of  their  own  gospel  is  to  make  them  and  their 
peoples  fear  the  things  which  they  taught  other  na 
tions  would  fear. 

'  Germany  has  given  to  the  world  the  most  awful 
exhibits  of  destructiveness  that  mortal  man  has  ever 
conceived.  We,  who  have  marched  through  the  torn 
and  battered  villages  and  homes  of  France  and  Belgium 
and  Serbia,  have  been  made  old  and  gray  by  the  things 


266          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

that  we  have  seen.  She  believed  that  this  destruction 
would  take  the  heart  out  of  us.  She  did  not  know  the 
peoples  she  attacked.  And  now  her  turn  has  come. 
My  conviction  is  that  those  who  have  taught  this  fright- 
fulness,  and  the  people  to  whom  they  have  taught  it, 
will  never  have  the  moral  or  physical  courage  to  run 
the  risk  of  having  applied  to  them  what  they  have  ap 
plied  to  us.  The  day  we  reach  this  last  invincible  line 
and  make  our  first  break  in  it  —  as  we  know  we  shall 

that  day  the  sword  of  the  enemy  will  be  laid  down ! 

They  will  not  be  able  to  face  the  horrors  of  fighting 
on  their  own  land,  of  seeing  their  own  villages,  their 
own  homes,  undergoing  the  awful  punishment  which 
they  have  so  wantonly  given  the  villages  and  homes  of 
other  countries.  They  will  yield.  They  will  yield  on 
the  border.  Gentlemen,  we  shall  not  be  obliged  to 
fight  our  way  to  Berlin.  And  I  am  one  of  those  who 
will  be  glad  when  the  time  comes  that  we  are  not  to 
take  another  life,  not  to  devastate  another  mile  of  the 
earth's  fair  face;  that  we  are  not  to  batter  down  an 
other  cottage,  or  destroy  another  beautiful  work  of 
man's  hands. 

"  *  But  that  does  not  mean  that  I  believe  that  the 
Allied  armies  should  not  go  to  Berlin.  What  I  have 
at  this  moment  to  propose  to  this  conference  is  that 
when  the  day  comes  —  as  it  surely  will  —  that  the  Ger 
man  and  the  Austrian  emperors  and  their  high  com 
mands  say  to  us,  "  We  yield," —  the  Allied  armies 
shall  say  to  them:  "Gentlemen,  you  will  yield  in 
Berlin.  We  go  to  Berlin.  But  we  go  to  your  capital 
not  as  destroyers;  we  go  as  saviors  of  freedom. 

1  We  shall  make  no  claim  upon  you  in  crossing 
your  land.  We  shall  lead  our  armies  —  French,  Eng 
lish,  Italian,  American  —  through  your  fertile  fields, 
your  pleasant  villages,  into  your  beautiful  capital,  with 
out  cost  or  pain  or  destruction  to  you.  We  shall  take 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          267 

with  us  our  food,  we  shall  ask  no  lodging  for  which 
we  do  not  give  fair  return,  and  we  shall  pledge  our 
honor  that  no  woman  suffer,  even  by  word  or  look, 
from  those  hundreds  of  thousands  of  marching  men." 

"  *  Gentlemen,  our  armies  will  do  this  if  we  ask 
it  of  them.  To  do  it  will  give  this  people  who  have 
held  as  a  religion  the  destructive  notion  of  progress 
and  power  which  has  encircled  the  earth  with  woe,  an 
exhibit  of  what  free  men  really  are.  It  will  show  them 
as  no  other  act  could  do  that  in  our  interpretation  of 
progress  and  power,  there  is  no  element  of  compulsion 
of  others  or  of  injury  to  others.  If  we  can  take  these 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  men  of  ours  into  Berlin  and 
leave  no  trace  of  destruction,  no  story  of  injustice  be 
hind  us,  we  will  give  the  world  the  greatest  exhibit  of 
the  control  that  free  men  can  exercise  over  themselves 
that  it  has  ever  seen  or  conceived.  We  shall  prove 
the  Biblical  saying  that  "  He  that  ruleth  his  spirit  is 
better  than  he  who  taketh  a  city." 

'  I  ask,  then,  that  when  Germany  yields  —  as  she 
soon  will  —  we  say,  "  We  receive  your  sword  in  Ber 
lin."  And  that  we  march  our  armies  there  for  that 
great  ceremony.  You  will  say  that  this  is  too  much  to 
ask  of  armies.  Gentlemen,  I  am  willing  to  pledge  the 
American  army  to  that  great  act  of  self-control.' 

"  The  General  sat  down.  For  a  long  time  there 
was  ^silence  at  the  table,  and  then  the  oldest,  the  least 
smiling,  the  longest  in  arms  of  the  English  staff,  arose 
and  said :  '  I  pledge  the  English  Tommies  to  march 
to  Berlin  without  injury  to  man  or  woman  or  child.' 
A  white  haired  Italian  sprang  to  his  feet:  '  You  may 
count  on  us,'  he  cried.  Then  slowly  the  great  French 
general,  to  whose  genius  the  campaign  soon  to  finish 
was  due,  arose.  '  Gentlemen,'  he  said,  '  you  all  re 
alize  what  it  would  mean  to  the  French  poilus  who  have 
seen  their  country  so  obliterated  that  many  of  them 


268          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

cannot  even  trace  the  lines  of  the  little  farms  on  which 
they  were  born,  who  know  that  when  they  go  back  to 
the  villages  in  which  they  and  their  families  once  lived, 
they  will  not  be  able  to  find  the  spot  where  their  homes 
stood,  you  must  know  what  it  would  mean  to  these  men 
to  march  into  Germany  as  conquerors,  to  see  her  fields 
still  peaceful  and  fertile,  her  villages  still  untouched, 
and  with  this  bitter  contrast  before  their  eyes,  neither 
by  look  or  act  to  show  hate  or  insult.  Yet,  if  this 
conception  of  our  American  friend  ever  becomes  pos 
sible,  I  pledge  the  French  poilu  to  that  majestic  under 
taking.' 

'  There  was  but  one  to  hear  from  —  a  king  —  a 
king  who  knew  that  scores  of  his  fairest  towns  and 
cities,  with  all  their  treasured  work  of  centuries  of 
labor  and  skill  and  love,  were  in  hopeless,  blood 
stained  ruins  —  who  knew  that  thousands  of  his  brave 
and  honest  countrymen  and  countrywomen  had  been 
dragged  from  the  remnants  of  homes  left  them,  to  do 
the  bidding  of  the  enemy  in  his  own  land;  who  knew 
that,  scattered  in  foreign  lands  were  little  children  of 
his  realm  who  never  would  know  even  the  names  to 
which  they  had  been  born. 

"  And  the  conference  was  still,  and  the  hearts  of  all 
were  big  with  pity,  looking  on  this  king  who  sat  with 
bowed  head.  Long  minutes  passed  before,  rising 
proudly,  he  lifted  to  them  a  face  which  bore  the  look 
of  one  who  comes  fresh  from  a  great  struggle  and  a 
great  victory,  and  in  the  quiet  voice  they  had  learned  to 
know,  the  king  said :  '  Gentlemen,  I  pledge  you  that 
the  Belgian  army  will  march  to  Berlin  and  leave  be 
hind  it  no  shattered  wall,  no  mutilated  old  man,  no  out 
raged  woman,  no  orphaned  child.'  " 

The  rhapsody  was  over.  Dick  stopped,  a  little 
breathless.  Never  before  in  all  his  experience  as  a 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          269 

speaker  had  he  so  lost  himself.  He  blinked  a  little, 
then  suddenly  was  conscious  of  a  curious  change  in 
his  audience  -r-  disapproval  —  almost  hostility.  What 
was  the  matter?  It  threw  him  off  his  balance  a  bit, 
and  he  finished  his  sermon  haltingly.  They  went  out 
stiff,  disapproving  backbones.  What  in  the  world  had 
he  done  ? 

He  went  into  the  vestry  room,  saying  to  himself, 
"  What  is  the  matter?  "  It  was  very  common  for  the 
vestrymen  to  come  around  and  say,  "  That  was  fine, 
Ingraham.  Just  what  ought  to  be  said,"  but  to-day 
the  only  person  that  waited  on  him  at  the  door  as  he 
came  out  was  Miss  Sarah  Kenton,  a  lady  of  sixty  or 
so,  whom  he  and  Ralph  were  accustomed  to  call,  "  Our 
Intellectual."  Miss  Sarah  had  had  a  literary  experi 
ence,  she  had  written  books.  There  was  no  subject 
.which  ever  came  up  on  which  she  did  not  have  a  pro 
nounced  opinion.  It  must  be  confessed  that  she  held 
most  of  Sabinsport  in  awe.  With  Dick,  she  had  al 
ways  been  as  nearly  humble  as  was  possible  for  her, 
for  Dick  was  a  man  who  had  seen  most  of  the  world 
which  Miss  Sarah  had  not.  Besides,  his  reading  and 
thinking,  even  she  admitted,  was  much  broader  and 
mellower  than  hers.  Almost  invariably  Miss  Sarah 
approved  of  Dick,  but  this  morning  when  he  came  out 
she  was  waiting  for  him  very  rigid  and  very  stern, 
and  what  she  said  was  to  the  point. 

"  You  have  made  a  great  mistake,  Mr.  Ingraham, 
in  your  sermon  this  morning.  You  have  outraged  us 
and  you  have  injured  yourself.  No  matter  what  we 
would  do  if  we  were  given  the  direct  alternative  of 
sparing  Germany  or  injuring  her  —  an  alternative 
which  can  only  be  hypothetical,  and  therefore  should 
not  be  discussed  now  even  as  a  '  mere  dream ' —  no 
matter,  I  say,  what  we  would  do  if  face  to  face  with 
such  an  alternative,  we  don't  want  people  to  talk  to  us 


270         THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

now  about  sparing  the  smiling  fields  and  cheerful  little 
happy  homes  of  Germany!  It  isn't  that  we  are  blood 
thirsty,  but  we  are  nauseated,  Richard  Ingraham,  at 
talking  about  the  blessed  state  of  Germany  compared 
with  the  desolation  she  has  made  in  other  countries. 
We  don't  want  to  hear  about  it." 

And  Miss  Sarah  turned  on  her  heel  and  walked 
down  the  street,  indignation  and  disgust  in  every  tap 
of  her  shoe  on  the  pavement. 

What  Miss  Sarah  had  so  pointedly  put  straight  to 
Dick  himself,  his  retiring  congregation  was  saying  in 
more  or  less  abbreviated  and  moderated  form  to  one 
another.  "  I  can't  see  it,"  said  one;  "  it's  looking  too 
far  ahead  to  talk  like  that.  Besides,  it  sounds  like 
peace  propaganda  to  me,  and  I  won't  stand  for  that, 
even  from  the  Domine,  much  as  I  have  always  believed 
in  him." 

"  It's  pacifist  talk,"  said  another.  "  Makes  me  feel 
as  if  we'd  been  harboring  a  serpent  in  our  bosom 
through  all  these  years.  It  might  be  all  very  well  to 
talk  about  a  peaceful  walk  to  Berlin  if  the  Germans 
were  not  Germans,  but  they  are  Germans,  the  people 
who  have  stood  for  all  these  atrocities,  who  have  been 
militarized  out  of  all  semblance  to  human  beings,  they 
must  have  their  lesson.  It's  a  church  for  a  church,  a 
cottage  for  a  cottage,  I  think." 

"  He's  all  wrong,"  said  another.  "  Get  them  with 
their  backs  to  the  wall  and  they  would  fight  like  hell, 
for  they've  got  it  into  their  heads  that  our  men  would 
do  every  fearful  thing  to  their  women  and  children 
that  they  have  done  to  ours." 

The  air  was  thick  with  disapproval  that  day  in 
Sabinsport  of  the  Rev.  Richard  Ingraham;  and  sus 
picion  gathered  and  gathered  as  the  day  went  on. 
Could  it  be  that  they  had  been  mistaken,  that  he  really 
was  at  heart  a  pacifist? 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          271 

The  day  was  to  come  —  and  it  was  not  far  distant  — 
when  all  these  indignant  patriots  were  to  do  their  best 
to  make  amends  for  their  resentment. 

Under  the  great  burst  of  joyous  relief  which  the 
news  of  the  signing  of  the  armistice  caused  in  Sabins- 
port,  her  anger  at  Dick  began  to  soften.  As  the  days 
went  on  and  they  actually  saw  at  least  the  spirit  of  his 
dream  coming  true  —  their  own  boys  crossing  into  the 
enemy's  country  in  orderly  fashion,  going  about  the 
enemy's  streets  in  self-control,  even  holding  the  enemy's 
children  on  their  knees  and  joining  in  their  Christmas 
trees  and  Christmas  carols  —  a  kind  of  wonder  seized 
them.  It  was  a  prophecy  they  had  listened  to.  Even 
Miss  Sarah  Kenton  was  one  day  to  come  to  Dick  and 
express  her  appreciation  of  his  sermon,  as  frankly  as 
she  had  just  expressed  her  disapproval. 

But  all  that  was  for  a  later  day.  There  is  no  ques 
tion  at  all  but  that,  at  the  moment,  Richard  Ingraham 
had  deeply  outraged  Sabinsport  spirit  of  righteous  in 
dignation  against  the  Germans  which  he  had  done  more 
than  any  other  man  to  awaken. 

He  went  back  to  his  study  in  the  rectory  after  his 
interview  with  Miss  Sarah  and  sat  for  a  long  time, 
considering  what  he  had  done.  "Good  Lord!"  he 
said,  "  I  certainly  have  put  my  foot  in  it.  They  really 
think  I  am  a  pacifist,"  and  he  threw  back  his  head  and 
laughed  aloud.  But  it  was  a  rueful  laugh.  Disap 
proval  was  a  new  experience  for  the  young  man.  He 
had  had  nothing  but  affectionate  approval  from  the  day 
that  Sabinsport  first  made  his  acquaintance.  He  could 
not  remember  a  time  in  all  these  years  of  speaking  to 
them  that  his  sermons  had  not  met  with  kindly  apprecia 
tion,  and  now?  Why,  they  had  walked  out  of  that 
church  as  if  they  thought  him  a  German  spy. 

And  yet,  underneath  his  chagrin,  there  was  a  certain 
exaltation.  "  She  has  a  mind  of  her  own,  Sabinsport, 


272          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

and  she  is  not  afraid  to  show  it.  You  can  trust  her  to 
take  care  of  her  own,  even  against  her  own.  But  what 
a  climb  I  will  have  to  get  back!  "  And  then  quickly 
the  thought  came,  "  I  wonder  if  Nancy  will  feel  as 
they  do  ?  "  That  gave  him  a  cold  heart,  almost  a  phys 
ical  sickness.  He  could  bear  everything  but  to  have 
Nancy  look  at  him  as  the  people  had  when  he  first 
came  out  of  his  rhapsody  and  realized  their  faces. 

He  put  it  through  bravely.  At  the  evening  service 
there  was  the  smallest  number  of  people  that  he  ever 
remembered  to  have  seen,  but  he  talked  exactly  as  he 
had  planned. 

Monday  had  always  been  for  him  a  play  day.  Usu 
ally  he  started  off  in  the  morning  for  a  long  tramp,  and 
since  he  had  established  his  friendly,  homelike  relations 
with  Nancy,  oftener  than  not  he  made  it  a  point  to 
walk  into  her  living  room  at  half-past  four  or  five  for 
a  cup  of  tea.  Reuben  Cowder  usually  made  it  a  point, 
too,  to  get  home  by  five  on  Mondays,  knowing  Dick 
would  be  there,  for  Reuben  Cowder  had  grown  fonder 
as  the  months  went  by  of  the  young  parson,  and  some 
times  he  said  to  himself,  u  I  wish  it  were  Dick  and  not 
Otto  that  she  cared  for.  What  a  son  he  would  make." 

This  habit  of  Dick's  was  known  to  Patsy.  Patsy 
had  been  stirred  to  wrath  by  the  echoes  that  had 
reached  her  before  night  of  Sunday  and  all  through 
Monday  morning  of  Dick's  pro-Germanism.  What 
utter  stupidity,  she  had  said.  Of  course  it's  nothing 
but  a  reaction  from  the  uplift  they  have  been  wallow 
ing  in.  Angry  as  she  was  at  the  thought  of  any  criti 
cism  of  Dick,  she  was  willing  to  slur  even  the  spirit 
which  had  taken  possession  of  the  town  and  in  which 
she  as  much  as  Dick  had  rejoiced.  And  to  Patsy  as 
to  Dick,  the  only  real  alarm  in  the  outbreak  was  that 
it  would  reach  Nancy  and  that  she  might  be  influenced. 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          273 

For  Patsy  you  see  had  come  to  believe  that  the  two 
were  in  love. 

"I  think,  Little  Ralph,"  she  said,  talking  aloud  to 
the  baby,  "  it's  time  for  your  mother  to  take  a  decisive 
hand.  He  was  the  best  friend  your  father  ever  had. 
If  it  had  not  been  for  him  you  would  not  have  been 
here,  little  boy.  If  Nancy  Cowder  doesn't  love  him, 
she  ought  to.  At  least  she  is  not  going  to  be  turned 
against  him  now  by  this  senseless  gossip."  And  so 
Patsy,  whose  anguished  heart  was  becoming  braver  and 
braver  day  by  day  in  service  to  others,  arrived  at  the 
McCullon  farm  just  about  the  time  that  Nancy  came 
in  from  camp. 

"  I  have  come  to  lunch,  Nancy,"  Patsy  announced. 
"  I  want  to  know  if  you  have  heard  what  Sabinsport  is 
doing  to  Dick." 

"Doing  to  Dick?"  Nancy  cried,  turning  white. 
"  Why,  what  do  you  mean?  " 

"She  does  care!"  Patsy  said  to  herself.  "They 
are  doing  a  cruel  thing;  they  are  accusing  him  of  treason 
—  he  — he  who  has  led  us  all  into  the  light,  who 
showed  Ralph  the  way,  who  gave  me  Ralph.  They 
are  badgering  him,  heckling  him,  Nancy.  And  all  out 
of  their  stupid,  stupid,  wicked,  revengeful  spirits." 

"But  what  —  what  do  you  mean?"  Nancy  cried, 
still  white  and  trembling. 

And  Patsy,  having  made  her  impression,  put  aside 
her  eloquence,  and  told  her  what  she  knew  of  the  ser 
mon  that  had  aroused  resentment  in  the  town.  As  she 
went  on,  relief,  tenderness,  amusement  chased  one  an 
other  across  Nancy's  unconscious  face. 

"  Oh,  I  understand,  Patsy.  You  needn't  defend 
Richard  Ingraham  to  me.  He  ought  to  have  known 
better,  though.  He  ought  to  have  known  the  town 
better.  Why,  Sabinsport  really  at  heart  was  never  so 


274          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

bitter  against  Germany  as  she  is  to-day.  It  was  fool 
ish,  foolish  of  him;  but  it's  wicked,  wicked  of  them  to 
doubt  him.  He  has  led  us  all.  Why,  my  father, 
Patsy.  See  what  he  has  done  for  my  father,  and  for 
me  !  Why,  he  brought  me  back.  Never  would  father 
have  found  me  if  it  had  not  been  for  him." 

It  was  a  very  satisfied  Patsy  that  sat  down  at  the 
lunch  table,  but  it  was  also  a  very  curious  one.  There 
was  one  point  that  needed  clearing  up,  and  that  was 
Otto  Littman.  And  so,  with  a  calculated  unconscious 
ness  that  Nancy  didn't  catch  at  all,  Patsy  said,  "  I  wish 
I  knew,  just  for  my  own  guidance,  what  there  is  in  all 
the  suspicion  against  Otto  Littman.  They  are  saying 
that  he  has  done  something  fine,  that  has  made  up  for 
all  his  early  defense  of  Germany;  but  nobody  seems  to 
know  what  it  is." 

And  Nancy,  quite  unguarded,  told  her  as  much  as 
she  dared  of  what  Otto  himself  had  told  her  in  con 
fession,  of  how  he  had  been  carried  away  by  the  Ger 
man  dream  of  world  empire,  of  how  his  vanity  had 
led  him  in  the  first  years  of  the  war  to  aid  the  plotters 
in  America,  of  how  he  had  come  to  his  senses  when  he 
saw  that  violence  against  life  and  property,  as  well  as 
the  spreading  of  German  ideas  (which  he  had  con 
sidered  legitimate),  was  intended,  of  his  break  with 
Max,  of  his  determination  to  win  back  the  confidence 
of  Sabinsport,  and  of  his  plea  that  Nancy,  whom  he  had 
always  loved,  the  one  woman  whom  he  had  ever 
thought  to  make  his  wife,  should  help  him. 

'I  could  not  do  it,  Patsy,"  she  said,  with  tears; 
"  but  it  has  almost  broken  my  heart  not  to  stand  by 
him  as  a  friend  in  his  hard,  uphill  fight.  I  understand 
perfectly  how  Otto  was  deluded.  I  know  his  vanity; 
and  he  has  done  a  noble  thing  and  the  day  will  come 
when  Sabinsport  will  understand,  after  the  war  is  over. 
But  it  hurts  me,  oh,  you  don't  know  how  it  hurts  me, 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          275 

not  to  be  able  to  help.     But  what  can  I  do?     I  do  not 
love  him.     I  shall  never  love  him." 

And  Patsy,  the  case  quite  clear  in  her  mind,  went 
back  to  Young  Ralph,  satisfied  that  she  had  done  a 
good  afternoon's  work. 

It  was  a  couple  of  hours  later  that  Dick  walked  in 
on  Nancy.  Possibly,  he  said  to  himself,  she  had  not 
heard  of  the  sermon  of  the  day  before,  for  she  came 
running  down  the  steps  to  greet  him,  saying,  u  You  are 
late.  I  hoped  you  would  come."  It  even  seemed  to 
him  she  was  warmer  in  her  greetings  than  usual. 

They  were  hardly  in  before  Reuben  Cowder's  car 
drew  up,  and  he  came  into  the  drawing  room.  His 
greeting  to  Dick  was  curt  and  stern.  He  neither  de 
layed  nor  hesitated  about  expressing  his  disapproval. 

"  What  is  this  I  hear  about  that  sermon  of  yours 
yesterday,  Ingraham?  They  tell  me  you  talked  some 
kind  of  twaddle  about  a  peaceful  entrance  into  Berlin, 
that  you  don't  want  the  Huns  punished,  that  you  don't 
want  any  disturbance  of  their  lands,  that  you  propose  to 
leave  these  brigands  and  murderers  untouched,  their 
spoils  in  their  hands,  to  let  them  get  away  with  their 
infamous  atrocities.  If  that's  the  way  you  feel,  I  don't 
want  you  in  my  house." 

There  was  a  sudden  little  stir  on  one  side  of  the  room. 
Dick  thought  of  it  afterwards  as  something  exactly  like 
a  bird  fluttering  out  of  its  nest,  and  flying  to  his  side. 
And  there  was  Nancy,  standing  straight  and  looking 
into  her  father's  eye  —  Cowder  look  for  Cowder  look. 

"  Stop  that,  Father,"  she  said.  "  I  know  what  Dick 
said.  I  know  exactly  what  he  meant.  No  revenge 
could  be  so  great  as  what  he  planned."  Her  hand  was 
laid  protectingly  on  Dick's  arm.  She  stood,  his  de 
fender,  blazing  with  understanding  and  sympathy. 
She  had  said  "  Dick  " —  it  was  the  first  time  in  all  their 
acquaintance. 


276          THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE 

And  Reuben  Cowder  had  a  great  light.  For  a 
"  hard  business  man,"  it  was  quite  extraordinary  that 
he  could  divine  that  this  was  possibly  the  great  hour  in 
the  lives  of  these  two  young  people,  that  possibly  it 
was  not  Otto,  after  all;  and,  with  a  gruff,  u  I  beg  your 
pardon,  Ingraham,"  he  left  the  room. 

The  girl  did  not  stir  from  where  she  stood.  She 
did  not  take  her  hand  from  his  arm.  She  only  turned 
a  very  white  face  straight  up  to  him. 

"  You  said  '  Dick,'  "  he  said  slowly.  '  You  meant 
it,  Nancy?  " 

"  I  meant  it  —  Dick." 

Then  the  Rev.  Richard  Ingraham  did  the  most 
sensible  thing  he  ever  did  in  his  life,  he  put  his  hand 
over  the  cold  one  on  his  arm,  and  said,  "  I  love  you, 
Nancy  Cowder." 

And  the  reply  came  swiftly,  unhesitatingly,  "  I  love 
you,  Dick." 

An  hour  later  the  two  came  out  to  the  veranda,  the 
look  of  glory  still  on  their  faces.  In  a  very  few  min 
utes  —  so  few  that  he  might  have  been  accused  of 
waiting  around  the  corner  for  their  appearance, — 
Reuben  Cowder  joined  them.  Dick  went  straight  to 
the  point:  "  I  have  asked  Nancy  to  marry  me,  Mr. 
Cowder.  She  has  said,  Yes.  What  do  you  say?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Reuben  Cowder,  "  I  say  I  would  rather 
have  you  for  a  son  than  any  man  I  ever  knew." 

The  three  sat  long  on  the  veranda  in  the  warm,  deep 
ening,  October  twilight,  looking  out  over  the  great  val 
ley  in  its  glorious  autumn  coloring,  down  to  a  segment 
of  that  curve  of  the  great  river  above  which  Sabinsport 
lay.  It  was  not  of  the  past  that  they  talked,  it  was 
not  of  Sabinsport's  struggles  and  sorrows,  it  was  not 
of  the  war  news  of  the  day;  it  was  of  the  future.  To 
all  three  of  them,  Reuben  Cowder  as  well  as  Dick  and 


THE  RISING  OF  THE  TIDE          277 

Nancy,  the  last  hour  had  opened  the  new  world  for 
which  the  war  had  been  fought. 

"  It  will  soon  be  over,"  Reuben  said.  "  We've  got 
them,  sure  thing.  We  must  think  now  of  the  future, 
Dick.  There  are  a  lot  of  changes  coming  to  Sabins- 
port.  There  will  be  things  doing  here  when  the  boys 
get  back.  I  will  need  you  both.  I  am  old.  I  have 
the  old  ways;  but  I  have  learned  something  since  you 
and  Ralph  Gardner  came  to  this  town,  and  I'm  not  so 
old  that  I  can't  learn  more.  I  must  do  it,  for  we  must 
reckon  with  those  stacks  there." 

He  nodded  his  head  to  the  opening  he  had  cut  long 
ago  in  the  noble  trees  which  ran  down  the  long  slope 
of  the  great  lawn,  an  opening  that  he  always  carefully 
preserved  for  it  brought  into  the  landscape  from  the 
veranda  the  tall  smoke  stacks  of  the  wire  mills. 

Dick's  mind  flew  back  to  the  day  a  dozen  years  be 
fore  when  he  had  walked  over  the  hills  and  caught  his 
first  view  of  the  town.  There  were  but  four  stacks  that 
day,  there  were  twelve  now,  and  from  every  one  of  the 
twelve  black  smoke  rose,  straight  into  the  clear  air, 
and  they  said  as  clear  and  loudly  to  him  now  as  they 
had  so  long  ago,  "  We  are  the  strong  things  here,  we 
are  the  things  to  be  reckoned  with." 

Yes,  they  had  great  struggles  for  great  things  com 
ing,  he  and  Reuben  Cowder,  and  Nancy  Cowder  — 
his  wife. 


THE   END 


PRINTED    IN    THE    UNITED    STATES    OF    AMBRICA 


'T^HE  following  pages  contain  advertisements 
of  books  by  the  same  author. 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

New  Ideals  in  Business 

BY  IDA  TARBELL 

Author  of  "History  of  the  Standard  Oil  Company,"  "Tariff  in  Our 
Times,"  "  Business  of  Being  a  Woman,"  etc. 

1*75 

"  Miss  Tarbell  has  rendered  a  great  service  in  bringing 
together  within  the  covers  of  a  single  book,  the  actual 
results  of  hundreds  of  experiments  along  these  lines.  She 
has  visited  plants  of  all  sorts  all  over  the  country,  she  has 
interviewed  both  masters  and  men,  she  has  watched  the 
transformation  of  communities  from  the  old  type  to  the 
new,  and  she  reports  her  findings  specifically,  giving  places 
and  names,  so  that  the  interested  employer  can  check  the 
facts  and  secure,  if  desired,  additional  information."  — 
Bellman,  Minneapolis. 

"  This  is  one  of  the  few  books  of  joyful  information  that 
are  available  to  the  reader  to-day.  It  is  thoroughly  in 
forming;  it  reveals  not  only  details  of  management,  but 
also  the  personal  reactions  of  employers  and  employes. 
Improvement  in  workshops  and  surroundings,  safety  for 
the  workers,  health  for  every  man,  sobriety,  good  homes, 
shorter  hours  and  better  work,  sufficient  wages,  experi 
ments  in  justice,  scientific  management  —  these  are  some 
of  the  topics  that  Miss  Tarbell  treats  with  fullness  and 
accuracy  and  with  much  of  the  lively  optimism  that  is 
based  on  facts  and  figures.  The  movement  for  the  em 
ployment  of  higher  ideals  in  business  is  bigger  than  the 
average  man  realizes,  and  Miss  Tarbell's  book  is  a  book 
to  read."  —  North  American  Review. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

The  Ways  of  Women 

Cloth,  izmo,  $1.2$ 

What  are  the  activities  and  responsibilities  of  the 
average  normal  woman?  This  is  the  question  which 
Miss  Tarbell  considers  in  this  book.  Despite  the 
change  in  the  outward  habits,  conduct,  points  of  view, 
and  ways  of  doing  things,  which  marks  the  present  age, 
Miss  Tarbell  maintains  that  certain  great  currents  of 
life  still  persist.  To  consider  that  these  are  lost  in  the 
new  world  of  machines  and  systems  is,  she  holds,  only 
to  study  the  surface.  The  relation  to  society  and  to 
the  future  of  the  old  and  common  pursuits  of  the 
woman  is  her  theme,  which  at  once  makes  the  volume 
appear  as  a  sort  of  supplement  to  her  previous  work, 
"The  Business  of  Being  a  Woman." 

"A  book  of  hopeful,  cheerful  thoughts  ...  a  very 
human  book,  worthy  of  careful  reading." 

—  Literary  Digest. 

"  A  striking  exposition  of  present-day  woman's  ways." 
— Philadelphia  North  American. 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

The  Business  of  Being  a  Woman 

BY  IDA   M.   TARBELL 


What  is  the  business  of  being  a  woman  ?  Is  it  something  incom 
patible  with  the  free  and  joyous  development  of  one's  talents  ?  Is 
there  no  place  in  it  for  economic  independence  ?  Has  it  no  essential 
relation  to  the  world's  movements  ?  Is  it  an  episode  which  drains 
the  forces  and  leaves  a  dreary  wreck  behind  ?  Is  it  something  that 
cannot  be  organized  into  a  profession  of  dignity  and  opportunity 
for  service  and  for  happiness  ?  These  are  some  of  the  questions 
Miss  Tarbell  answers.  She  has  treated  on  broad  lines  the  political, 
social,  and  economic  issues  of  to-day  as  they  affect  woman.  Suf 
frage,  Woman  and  the  Household,  The  Home  as  an  Educational 
Center,  the  Homeless  Daughter,  Friendless  Youth,  and  the  Irrespon 
sible  Woman  —  these  but  suggest  the  train  of  Miss  Tarbell's  thought ; 
she  has  made  out  of  them,  because  of  their  bearing  on  all  of  her  sex, 
a  powerful,  unified  narrative. 

Life  of  Abraham  Lincoln 

With  32  full- page  illustrations,  doth,  8vo,  two  volumes,  $3.00 

Drawn  from  original  sources,  and  containing  many  speeches, 
letters,  and  telegrams  hitherto  unpublished. 

Miss  Tarbell's  "  Life  of  Abraham  Lincoln  "  is  now  enjoying  a 
greater  popularity  and  a  higher  ranking  than  in  any  previous  year 
of  its  publication.  Alone,  it  was  sufficient  in  accomplishment  to 
place  her  in  the  leading  rank  of  biographers,  and  it  promises  to  hold 
indefinitely  its  undisputed  position. 

"  Miss  Tarbell's  work  presents  a  portrait  that  no  student  of  history 
can  afford  to  miss."  —  Brooklyn  Eagle. 


THE   MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  Tork 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

The  Tariff  in  Our  Times 

A  Study  of  Fifty  Years'  Experience  with  the  Doctrines 
of  Protection. 

BY  IDA  M.  TARBELL 

izmo,  $1.50 

"  There  is  scarcely  a  great  event  or  a  public  man  of  importance 
in  the  period  covered  that  does  not  figure  directly  or  indirectly 
in  this  story.  The  result  is  a  narrative  full  of  dramatic  situations, 
big  movements,  strenuous  fighting,  and  fine  characters." — Philadel 
phia  North  American. 

"  An  interesting  and  exhaustive  treatise  on  the  subject  of  tariff 
and  tariff  making." — American  Banker. 

".  .  .  No  single  volume  has  brought  out  the  facts  and  interests 
connected  with  tariff  and  tariff  tinkering  as  does  this  book  in  which 
the  story  is  told  in  narrative  form." —  Boston  Transcript. 

"  Miss  Tarbell  has  written  a  book  of  high  value  and  great  timeli 
ness,  in  her  history  of  the  tariff.  .  .  .  Every  thoughtful  student  of 
the  subject  should  read  Miss  Tarbell's  book,  whether  he  believes  in 
tariff  for  revenue  only,  high  protection,  or  free  trade." —  Wall  Street 
Journal. 


He  Knew  Lincoln 


Uniform  with  the  author's  "Father  Abraham."  Fourth 
edition.  With  colored  frontispiece  by  Bkndon  Campbell 
and  illustrations  by  Fay  Hambidge. 

Cloth,  I2mo,  $  .60 

"  Told  so  delicately,  humanly,  reverently,  that  one  is  better  for 
the  hearing.  One  laughs  and  cries  at  the  sheer  touch  of  nature." — 
New  York  Times. 


Madame  Roland 


Portrait  frontispiece,   cloth,   iztno,  $1.50 

^An  intimate  biographical  study,  largely  derived  from 
hitherto  unpublished  sources,  of  one  of  the  most  interest 
ing  women  of  the  French  Revolution. 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Publishers     64-66  Fifth  Avenue     New  York 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

Father  Abraham 

Cloth,  izmo,  $.<5o 
Illustrated  in  colors  by  BLENDON  CAMPBELL 

No  other  has  so  clearly  seen  the  great  throbbing,  suffering,  human 
heart  hidden  under  the  rough,  forceful  character  he  showed  the  world. 

Napoleon  :  With  a  Sketch  of  Josephine 

Illustrated,  doth,  izmo,  new  edition,  $2.00 

"  A  timely  publication  is  the  new  and  cheaper  edition  of  Ida  M.  Tar- 
bell's  popular  study  of  Napoleon.  In  this  work  Miss  Tarbell  tells  the 
wonderful  story  of  Napoleon's  career  with  so  sure  a  grasp  of  the  facts 
and  so  keen  an  appreciation  of  their  real  significance,  that  the  reader 
finds  the  Napoleonic  age  vividly  reconstructed  before  him. 

"  It  is  perhaps  one  of  the  most  accurate  descriptions  of  Napoleon 
ever  written,  yet  its  style  is  bright  and  the  thread  of  the  narrative  so  well 
maintained  that  it  is  most  entertaining  reading. 

"  The  illustrations,  drawn  from  the  collection  of  Napoleon  engravings 
made  by  the  late  Hon.  G.  G.  Hubbard,  and  now  owned  by  the  Con 
gressional  Library,  and  supplemented  by  pictures  from  the  best  French 
collections,  are  of  special  value."  —  Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

"One  should  be  thankful  for  this  volume  by  Miss  Tarbell,  which 
is  the  most  readable  and  authentic  of  all  Napoleon  biographies."  — 
Pittsburg  Gazette. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


« 


vtAP 


--  /  •  - 


5002 40 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


